The Trouble With Angels
by Jord
Summary: My interpretation of ME3 borrows from the game with an AU-spin. Indoctrination theory will play a big role. Shepard's last push to defeat the Reaper threat will make her a little darker and more flawed. Possible Shepard/Liara or Shepard/Kaidan.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** My head is throbbing for lack of sleep so I'll make this short. I am one of the many disappointed by ME3. But while the game disappointed on many levels, there were some beautiful instances where it shone. To me, the game is full of unfinished potential. Which is why I felt the need to write about my own take on it. Not sure if this will be an improvement or a complete failure (I'm think it may go the way of the latter), but the process is cathartic regardless.

I plan to incorporate many scenes found in the game and merge them with my interpretations. Because of this, the narrative will not be identical, so apologies in advance if this isn't what you're looking for.

I also plan to make this version of Shepard a little darker and more vulnerable to the stresses she faces. At this point, also not sure who her LI is going to be. Trying to choose between Liara and Kaidan and am leaning in Liara's direction for the moment.

Would love to know what you think!

* * *

**Chapter 1**

It becomes a little easier to see him now, as the shroud around the edges peels away. It's a standard replica of an Alliance shuttle that he holds in his small hands, and he pilots it around the limited terrace as only a child can. Undivided attention to an imaginary realm. There is no trick in freezing this instant, there is only the memory and what will follow it. She recognizes that it is an ominous future, and it is then that the soldier walks in, salutes her and frowns. She half-heartedly dismisses her official rank, brings attention to the fact that it has been stripped, and is then alerted to an unfolding _situation_. God, how she despises that term. A _situation_. Is it something that the weak have to use when they lack the courage to face the truth?

It isn't a fair comparison, she reminds herself. You've felt the hot and cold that only the nearness of death can elicit, and you've conversed with devils that leaders and governments never had to face in their combined lifetimes. Okay then, she concedes, it isn't a fair comparison.

They walk down a busy and wide corridor together. They are then joined by an old friend – a high ranking old friend. His face – its lines and contours scarred with burdens unfairly thrust on him – appears heavier than normal. All she needs is an unfinished sentence and a look in his eyes to tell her the worst.

_It's the Reapers, isn't it? They're here, aren't they?_

And now comes the familiar surge of anger. Anger borne of unheeded warnings.

_What's the point in my telling them what they already know?_

He tries to placate her and is partly successful.

_Just talk to the defense committee – you've fought the Reapers up close – hell, you've killed one of them. The Alliance is ready to listen to you now, Shepard._

She chokes back a retort because he does not deserve this treatment. After all, he wasn't the one who needed convincing. And if he was right and the situation was as bad as he imagined, then there would be no time for grievances. At least not in this lifetime.

It's with an uneasy form of acceptance that she walks down these now-familiar hallways. And then, as if stepping out of a dream, emerges another old friend. Alive but a ghost. Kaidan Alenko greets her – Lieutenant Commander now – just outside the meeting room. It becomes clear to her that the committee is finished questioning him. She wants to stop the continuity of moments and take control, even if for a few minutes, and ask him what they want to know. What could she possibly tell them now that could save them from the Reapers? If the Reapers were on their way, then what the point to anything?

_They're ready for you_.

Yes, they've been ready for me for a while, she thinks to herself. Funny thing now is that she wishes that their attention would be focused solely on her and not on something ominous.

_Okay. Let's get this over with_.

The room is strange. The tall and massive windows provide her with an impressive look at the waters that surround Alliance Headquarters. Everything here is stately, almost regal – meant to eclipse those unlucky enough to fall under its scrutiny. She pays little attention to the goings-on of monitors and its attendees. A beautifully-polished oak panel towers over her, and behind it sit three individuals.

Her muscles involuntarily grow taut. What disbeliefs will they counter with today?

_...something on our radar, and it's unimaginably powerful._

Is this a trap? A lure to get her to admit that her mind may be broken? What would they gain? They could lock her up. _Get real – you are already locked up_.

Commotion on the monitors and everyone's eyes fix onto the video feed. Its edges crackle with static. There is chaos in the background; a soldier's panic-stricken face comes into view. Smoke. Explosions behind him. A loud sound – it hurts many ears, but nobody covers them – and the video feed cuts out. _It's Eden Prime all over again_.

…_lost contact with Luna Base!_

So soon. It was too quick. How could they ready themselves for this one? The committee casts pleading and questioning gazes on her.

_We fight or we die!_

Are those her words? They feel alien. In her heart she feels the cold but steady spread of fear. We are going to die. We are _all_ going to die. And we could have prevented it.

An unearthly light pierces through the blue sky into the waters in the backdrop. It is accompanied by a threatening groan and tremors that shake the earth beneath their feet. _Too fast_. All of this is happening too fast. The light – a beam now – traverses closer to them, as if searching them out. It is disintegrating everything it comes in contact with.

Too fast.

* * *

Her eyes opened wide suddenly. The jarring images from the dream resonated in time with her pounding heart. She remained curled on the bed, underneath layers of sheets, sweat-soaked and frightened. Her brain continued to crawl towards the shores of normalcy; ears listening for everyday noises, eyes searching for the familiar. The ticking of clocks, the dim glow of muted electronic equipment. Slowly and reluctantly, she pushed the bed-sheets off and sat up. Swinging her legs off the side of the bed and onto the floor, she padded towards an organized desk and turned on her datapad.

All her extranet activities were constantly being monitored and tracked. There was no contacting or seeking comfort in old friends. It would be cruel to drag them into all of this. Part of her wanted to disregard the consequences if only to hear a familiar voice for a few minutes...and her fingers almost wandered across the screen in that direction, but then she faltered and sighed. She clicked on images, and then pulled up a list of old pictures. A faint smile played on her lips as she clicked through the list. A photo of Garrus, Tali and Liara on board the SR1, in the Normandy's engine room. Engineer Adams was not a good photographer, by any means, but he was an enthusiastic one. Tali's face mask was blurry, Garrus had lifted one hand to his face at the wrong moment and Liara's eyes were closed due to an oncoming laugh. The glow from the illuminated picture lit up the darkness and beckoned to her.

She quickly turned off the datapad and placed it back on the desk. It was becoming easier to reminisce and wallow in fond memories now gone. If there was little at stake on the horizon, then perhaps she'd prefer to indulge in self-sympathy, but if she could afford that, then she would have little to spare for the troubles that lay ahead.

She turned on the desk lamp and rummaged around for a book given to her by an old friend. Kasumi had picked it out just for her. She thumbed through the leaves to find the dog-eared one that marked her page and continued to read on through the night.

* * *

At 7 a.m. he found her dressed in uniform reading a well-worn book. Her eyes flicked from the book to meet his gaze.

"You're up early," came the familiar voice – in an attempt to sound genial.

"As opposed to...?" she asked with a smile.

"My having to wake you up at 8 a.m. every day of the week like I've had to do with my teenage son."

Shepard couldn't help but laugh. It was a cheerless one.

"You think it's funny, do you? Being court-martialed, detained, grounded and stripped of your rank – and you revert to adolescent behavior?"

"If they're going to pin a label on me, Anderson, I may as well play the part." She put the book down.

"Yes, well, just try to be a little more congenial today, alright?"

"Oh, I don't know...I'm really in the mood for _petty_. I've rehearsed and polished _smart-ass_ hard enough to make a Krogan blush. Just think – they can put it in their reports – along with the rest, and revel in it. And just when they think they have me where they want me – put on trial for war crimes or what-have-you – the Reapers will be here. Harbinger and his goddamn posse." She looked down and gave a grim smile, "Too bad neither one of us will be alive to rub their noses in it."

"Is that what you want? To throw out _I-told-you-so_'s? To be proven right?"

"I want them to see what I saw. I want them to be afraid. I...I want them to pay some kind of price for wasting so much time on all this bullshit."

Anderson looked at her darkly. "You don't mean that."

Her gaze did not waver. "Sure I do. I mean, why not?" She scoffed and loosely waved her arm around her. "Look at the situation, David. They know there's something bigger than the Geth and Collectors out there. It almost destroyed the Citadel – that's as big a close-up as it gets. But they can't accept it. Despite the wasted resources...and the lives lost, they cannot accept it. You want to know why? I don't think it's human nature anymore. I think it has all come down to a matter of appearances, and playing the blame-game. No one wants to admit or accept that they're out-maneuvered. No one wants to admit that they've been out-smarted and out-gunned. The Asari don't want to admit that they can't understand Citadel technology. The Quarians don't want to accept that the Geth have evolved beyond their capacity of comprehension. Let's not even get into the Salarian and Krogan fiasco. And the humans? Our own military is so obsessed with a rogue black-ops group that with the Reapers rapping on our front door, they're aiming their sights on me. If they –"

"Shepard, that's enough!" Anderson pinned her in place with an icy stare. "I understand how you feel. You think I haven't been there? Remember Saren? Remember how the Council made me seem like an incompetent idiot? Of course I was bitter. I'll admit, you have the right to feel the same way, but life isn't about getting what you deserve. And I don't know how, but you'd damned well better pull yourself together and handle the situation better than this."

In a half-hearted stance of defiance, she said, "What makes today different than the rest, Anderson? They will only ask me the questions that they want to hear, they won't – "

" – snap out of your self-pity, Shepard. This isn't you."

As she sighed, Anderson hid from her a grim smile, knowing that he had won the small battle.

She followed, shoulders slumped, behind him. "Okay. Alright. Let's get today over with."

* * *

" – about Lawson?" came the female voice.

Shepard, seated at the other end of an imposingly long table, was jolted out of her reverie. "I'm sorry, could you please repeat the question?" she asked.

The woman, her collar buttoned all the way to her neck, sighed. "What about the Illusive Man's operative: Miranda Lawson? Aren't you aware of her whereabouts? A week ago, you did mention that you both parted on amicable terms."

"Your statement would imply that Miranda and I were previously on hostile terms..." murmured Shepard. "I do not know where Miranda is. She abandoned Cerberus, for heaven's sake. You do know what that means, don't you? You don't reject a three-headed hell hound without expecting some form of reprisal. It isn't as if she'd leave a forwarding address. Not even for me." One look from Anderson, seated next to Shepard's examiner, momentarily halted further retorts on Shepard's part.

"Noted." replied the woman, as she nodded in the direction of the stenographer – all the while mute and invisible.

Shepard caught the perfunctory gesture but remained silent.

The woman brought a hot coffee cup to her lips. She took a careful sip and continued. "And Mr. Taylor? Are you certain that he's cut ties with Cerberus?"

"I am not aware of Jacob's location either." Her brows furrowed. That was an interesting choice of words – _cut ties with Cerberus_. Why not_ 'what about Jacob Taylor – have you heard from him_'? And why did they need to verify his now-severed relationship with Cerberus? Was it possible that he might have been trying to re-instate himself with the Alliance? She opened her mouth to pursue the matter, but was quickly silenced.

"That will be all regarding your former connections, Shepard. We do, however, have a few questions regarding Cerberus' operations." The woman looked down at her datapad. Her tortoise-shell glasses silently slid down the bridge of her nose. "At any point during your liaison with Cerberus, did you find out about other schemes that did not directly relate to your own?"

"No."

"Surely Operative Lawson must have mentioned some of those to you."

"Miranda Lawson was in charge of the Lazarus cell, ma'am," replied Shepard, "and each Cerberus cell functions independently of the others."

It was a clever way to operate, Shepard realized. If an operative was compromised, and was under considerable duress to give up information, they had no knowledge of data that pertained to other Cerberus undertakings. To some extent, she had the uncomfortable feeling that she was in a similar position. She'd had a stellar career with the Alliance – up until now, at least – and given her accomplishments, she had expected more forgiveness; more give-and-take of information. But the Alliance was determined to keep her in the dark. She stared at her interrogator knowingly. "Surely you must have suspected this."

The woman frowned but didn't bite. "Fair enough, but let the record show that we find it highly unlikely that you remain completely ignorant of Cerberus' intentions."

Anderson – who had been seated quietly all the while – spoke up. "I hope you understand that the insinuations you've made border on slander. Shepard has been more than cooperative with us. It is my opinion that she has been very forthcoming with information regarding Cerberus' exploits. We wouldn't even be in possession of the new Normandy if this wasn't the case. Heck, she wouldn't have turned herself in if she truly didn't want to cooperate."

The woman pushed her glasses up her nose and regarded Anderson with a cool detachment. "We are not here to colour Shepard's reports with opinions, Captain, but with facts. And let me remind you that we are on her side. After this deposition, and when this case goes to trial – "

" – if you truly had her interests at heart, you would do everything in your power to prevent her from going to trial," interjected Anderson.

Cool detachment soon morphed into annoyed assertion. "Let me remind you...and with all due respect to your presence in this room...that you are here purely on a consulting basis. If we wanted a _champion_ for her, we could have just as easily picked a Batarian off the streets."

The woman's sarcasm tested Anderon's patience. His eyes flashed. "Shepard did not go to Aratoht on a whim. She destroyed the relay there because it needed to be destroyed. She bought us time. And furthermore, she did this as a –"

" – I destroyed the relay because it was back door for the Reapers. There wasn't much time." Shepard shot Anderson a cursory glance. If he revealed the fact that Shepard had gone to Aratoht to recover Amanda Kenson – a close friend of Admiral Hackett's – from a Batarian prison, that would have dragged Hackett into this quagmire too. Her list of allies was slowly dwindling and she did not want Hackett to be among its casualties. Anderson leaned back into his chair, tense.

The woman gave Shepard a weary look. She took off her glasses and massaged the bridge of her nose. "The Reapers are not the topic of conversation, Shepard. Please try to refrain from bringing them into play – if for five minutes at least." She slipped her glasses back on again. "If I may continue?" Shepard issued a slight nod. "You were – for a short time – on a Cerberus-owned station. You claim that it was where they uh...resurrected you. When it was attacked, and while you escaped, did you manage to download any intel on research data or side-projects?"

"There were only recordings – brief progress reports – on my recovery process."

"Yes, we have the transcripts on file. But you've been on the inside. Is there anything there that might allude to Cerberus' operations that we cannot decipher? Resources, functionality levels, anything?"

"That particular station housed the Lazarus cell. I have no reason to believe that other unrelated projects occurred there."

"What about on board the Normandy? Did Cerberus make any requests on their behalf? Assign missions to you that only served their best interests?"

"There were about two or three. But I believe that these have already been mentioned to you and are on file."

"So you completed them, then? Willingly?"

Shepard paused and then looked down into her lap. "Yes. Yes, I did."

"Why? Because you feel that you owe them?"

Shepard looked up, part the woman, past the questions and their transparencies. "Not...quite. They needed me, and I needed them. Their resources, anyway. It required compromise."

"Let me guess...you needed them to destroy the Reaper threat. So, just to make sure I'm understanding this correctly – you allied yourself with Cerberus to destroy a purely speculative threat? Do you believe that Cerberus invested billions in you because they were convinced that only _you_ could defeat a mythological adversary?"

"Not a myth," said Shepard quietly.

"Hasn't it even occurred to you that Cerberus might have programmed you to be their own sleeper agent?"

"I...yes, but – "

"Do you finally understand the position we are in, Shepard?"

Shepard looked away, uncertain. Yes, it was easy to comprehend. Miranda had informed her that the most imperative goal of the Lazarus Project was to bring back Commander Shepard from the dead, just as she had always been. If she had been altered in any way – a control chip placed in her mind, for instance – the Lazarus Project would have failed. And Miranda never accepted failure. But surely there were things that the Illusive Man had hidden from her. The facts, as he had said once, were with him and no one else. It shifted the balance of power in his favour.

But she never felt an alien presence in her head. Never felt that she was fighting against her own will. And in this recognition, she knew that her only evidence was based on feelings. Nothing solid or substantial. A wave of self-doubt swept over her and could not find the right answer to the question.

An uncomfortable silence followed, and Anderson leaned forward in his chair and spoke quietly. "I believe we've moved beyond that. I can personally vouch for Shepard's loyalty to the Alliance. And if that isn't enough, the psychological and behavioural tests should give you the proof you need."

The glasses had slid down again, and the woman peered from above them at Anderson. "The analysis results are inconclusive. We've conducted the same tests on ex-communicated Alliance scientists and soldiers with similar results. And they were the ones who had sold the Normandy prototype designs to Cerberus."

Shepard squirmed in her chair uncomfortably. She did not like where this was going. If the topic of the day's questions deviated from its path, the woman would be quick to set her straight. How had the subject shifted so dramatically from Shepard's knowledge of other Cerberus activities and onto the possibility that she might be an inadvertent pawn of the Illusive Man? Of course, during the last few weeks the insinuations were there, but they never threw so direct a question her way as they had done today. They were trying too hard – but for what, she couldn't understand.

"All I'm saying is," the woman went on, "if Shepard was to develop a temporary alliance with Cerberus prior to her death, it would make this a whole lot easier on us and her – she would simply have to answer a few questions and that would be the end of it. But Cerberus re-built her, for Christ's sake. These are the same individuals who infected their own people with the Thorian spores. If there is a goal, and only one means to it – no matter how unethical – they _will_ follow through. They aren't a benevolent entity and they certainly didn't resurrect Shepard from the kindness of their hearts."

"You're right, they brought me back because human colonies were vanishing, and the Alliance was too bogged down in paperwork to investigate." Shepard retorted.

"And what makes you so special? Why not pick one of their own?"

Silence.

The woman's tone softened. "Look, I have nothing personal against you, Shepard. For all we know, you could still be you and your mind un-tampered with. But you could also be a time-bomb waiting for the right cue, the right stimulus. To reinstate you would be taking a very substantial risk."

"So what can I say then?" Shepard looked at the woman earnestly. "If you won't reinstate me then let me go. Let me go back to a civilian life."

Anderson took in a deep breath and let it out sadly. Weeks of lengthy interrogations and accusations were taking its toll on the soldier he had come to mentor and respect. She was lodged firmly between the proverbial rock and hard place, and after fighting to get out with no success, she was beginning to resign herself to the inevitable.

"We can't do that either," the woman replied. "But there is one option."

Anderson held his breath, and glanced at Shepard. He waited for the woman to continue.

"There are some medical procedures that might help us clear all of this up. If they work out well and to your advantage, we'd have you back with us. No unnecessary demotions. "

"What kind of medical procedures?"

"I am not at liberty to say. All I will tell you is that we require your consent to go through with it."

Shepard sat still for several moments – confused. Anderson, now on the edge of his seat, could almost hear the amalgam of queries and self-doubt that battled within Shepard. He was simultaneously flooded with the same emotions, and he couldn't help but feel that something was amiss.

It was then – during the tense silence – that he chose step in. "She will probably need time to think on this. Give her a day or two."

Shepard burst out of her thoughts and shot Anderson an annoyed expression. He gave a barely perceptible shake of his head and the remained silent.

The woman raised her eyebrows as if surprised. "Can't Shepard speak for herself?"

"I – " began Shepard hesitantly, "I think maybe the Captain is right. I would like the time."

"I would have thought that you'd jump on this opportunity, Shepard. These don't come around very often. We really could save ourselves a whole lot of trouble."

Her voice grew more confident. "Probably. But I would like the time to think this through nevertheless. I suppose, then, we'll have to call it a day and pick up from where we left tomorrow. It would be prudent of you to make a decision by then."

The woman stood up, gathered her datapads in silence. Her stenographer did the same and they both exited the room. As soon as the door was shut, Shepard spoke. "What the hell was that all about?"

"I don't know," replied Anderson, "but I don't like it."

"What kind of medical procedure is it? Has it been used on other Alliance soldiers?"

"I don't know." repeated Anderson. He rubbed the back of his neck thoughtfully. His lips then parted, as if to say something, but the words retreated.

"I feel as if I'm in limbo," remarked Shepard. "I...don't know what to do. I want to refuse, you know – that's my first impulse. But what if this is really a good opportunity, like she said? Can we afford to pass this up?"

"I would advise against committing to either of your choices right now."

"But you heard her – they need to know by tomorrow."

"Listen to me, Shepard. There is something wrong here. Why didn't they give us any details? If this test is truly the best way out, why bring it up now – two weeks into your deposition? If my instincts are right, both options sound pretty bleak." He turned away his gaze and pondered something silently. "Look, maybe – just _maybe_ – we might be able to put a third choice into play."

"How do you mean?" Shepard studied him carefully. There was a small fire in his eyes – one she hadn't seen since the first Normandy was grounded.

"Don't let it worry you for now. There is some thinking I need to do."

"Wait, but what about – "

"Go grab something to eat. I'll be in touch."

And with that, he was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N** For those who read, please leave a review if you have the time. It would mean a lot and helps me identify inconsistencies, grammatical deviations and areas that need improvement.

A hefty thank-you to Theodur and Zalistra for your reviews! Like I said, having the input is tremendously helpful. Also, thank you for the input on choosing a LI. In the games, I'd romanced Kaidan and came to regret it in ME2 and 3. Boy, did I regret it. At this point, I'm pretty much certain that I will pair this Femshep with Liara. There is so much I'd like to cover regarding past relationships that were not tackled in ME3 that it's mind-boggling.

There are a few things I would love your input on:

**1)** Vega's insertion - not sure if I want to include him, but am definitely flexible. Would you like to see more of James Vega? If so, in what capacity?

**2)** EDI-turned-fembot - Honestly, I felt as if this was forced on us. As of this moment, I intend to keep her as more of the Normandy's AI (a la ME2). This would then mean that poor Joker does not get a love interest. Ideas and thoughts on this?

**3)** Kaidan-Shepard-Liara dynamic - In keeping with my playthroughs of ME 1 and 2, I romanced Kaidan and remained faithful to him in ME2. In this story, I am most likely going to end their relationship and have Shepard's amorous intentions focus on Liara. I would **LOVE** (note how that word was capitalized and bolded, no less) to know what your impressions of Kaidan in ME3 were. Send it to me in a review, a PM, whatever you like. I am extremely interested. With that in mind, I may - with your permission - borrow your thoughts and interpretations and incorporate those into the story. If you don't want me to do this, let me know, and I will respectfully refrain from doing so.

**4)** What relationships did you want more of that ME3 was lacking in?

That is it for the moment. Again, thanks much for reading.

* * *

**Chapter 2**

She had foregone the opportunity to have lunch, and walked straight back to her room. She entered more frustrated than she had left it, if that was even possible. Her head throbbed slightly with the implications of the crossroads she had come to, and she chose to disregard the advice given to her by both Anderson and the woman. If at least for the moment. Shepard moved towards the door and activated every lock on it. She didn't want to think. Thinking these days had taken the form of circular logic, and it was draining in more ways than one.

She rubbed her temples and walked over to the first aid cabinet near the window. She pulled up two ampules of painkiller, another one filled with an antibiotic cocktail and a few pills for motion-sickness. Now seated at her desk, she gathered her questionable pharmaceutic supply and began taking each glass canister apart carefully. She was very delicate with her measurements; eye-balling and double-checking quantities before combining all four – in varying amounts – into the empty coffee mug before her. With the edge of a blunt knife, she crushed the motion-sickness pills and gently scraped the powdery grains into the mug. She wiped her hands on a paper towel and placed the mug on a hot plate. She started a timer on her watch and when it beeped at her, she took the mug off the plate and stirred its contents together. She picked up a hypodermic syringe from one of the empty capsules and sucked up the mixture with remarkable deftness. After ensuring that no air bubbles were present, she pushed the needle into a vein just below her wrist. She watched with a calm detachment as the narrow conduit submerged beneath her skin. Thumb on plunger, the colourless liquid sank soundlessly into its destination and quickly intermingled with her pulsing blood.

As she let out a breath of anticipation, it was as if her being was replaced by someone else. Someone from the past. Another soldier – a name was present, though not necessary – but the place was dangerously vivid. He had barricaded the remaining few on his team in a lab. Sentry guns had been placed outside – ominously low on ammunition. He was perspiring heavily, although none of them had exerted themselves physically in the last few hours. His hands had begun to shake. He strode purposefully towards an evidently-ransacked first aid kit and took out a few choice items. The two of the other men in the room chose to look away, but Shepard – with bloodshot eyes – looked on, transfixed. He had concocted his dark remedy in the span of three minutes. She caught his attention and mouthed the words, _how long_, and he responded by holding his palm up – all digits outstretched.

Five minutes. She had around five minutes to spare before the cocktail would take effect. With necessary diligence and in a routine-like trance, she cleared up the evidence of her makeshift lab. She then picked up her worn book and began to read.

* * *

The heels of the woman's shoes clicked rhythmically on the stone floor. Her eyes were fixed purposefully ahead of her, but her mind was preoccupied, disturbed, and her stomach churned in response. She was oblivious to her busy surroundings – the comings and goings of other Alliance personnel. Such industrious sounds faded into white noise, as she turned recent developments around and around in her head. She had expected more receptivity on Shepard's part. Essentially, it was Shepard's get-out-of-jail-free card, and she had rejected it. Okay, perhaps it wasn't an outright rejection, but she couldn't help but notice the lack of optimism with which the information was received. Her nose wrinkled slightly in annoyance. This was Anderson's doing. His self-insertion in matters that shouldn't concern him was troubling.

A small fragment of stone tile jutted out from the floor in rebellion, and she inadvertently met it with the toe of her shoe. She stumbled forward and caught herself, at the cost of losing her grip on all her folders and datapads. They scattered about her in noisome chaos and she bent down to restore order. A pair of military boots – more than dutifully-polished – stepped into the outskirts of her vision. Her eyes shot upwards and all her muscles stiffened in recognition. With a disorganized sweep of her hands, she quickly gathered her belongings, tucked them under one arm, straightened up and deftly saluted the man before her with her free hand.

"At ease, Lieutenant." His voice was deep, smooth and level.

"Sir," she nodded as she glanced at her watch, "I thought we weren't to meet until later this afternoon."

"There's been a change of plans," he replied, as his eyes took her person in. "You're to come with me." He began to walk.

She instinctively marched at his side and then faltered. "I – I can't, I have an appointment with – "

" – it's been cancelled. Just follow me."

* * *

She marched in step with him dutifully, through familiar rooms and corridors. They walked in accompanying time, but his feet tread a few centimeters ahead of hers. It was purposeful, of course, a subtle nod that acknowledged his superiority, and they were both aware of it.

As they walked, the number of Alliance staff about them diminished as did her familiar surroundings, and with widened eyes that she averted from her higher ranking officer, she recognized that they were crossing into territory that did not befit her military position. She said nothing, however, as he stood at the end of this corridor before an imposing door. And she remained quiet as an expanding light from a panel on the door slid over his face, assessing authenticity. In a few seconds, a dead light came to life in green and approving acknowledgment.

He paused as the door slid noiselessly open, and gestured for her to enter.

With a few tentative steps, and him behind her, she entered a darkened room. Muted lamps illuminated two other persons within, but tendrils of smoke from fresh cigarette butts snaked into the air, adding an unnecessary veil before the situation. She took in her environment with a slight increase in heartbeat. It wasn't a small chamber, but neither was it a large one. There was a table at its center, devoid of any burdens save for the ash tray, one empty cup and a solitary thermos. The lamps stood at the end of the room in an attempt to make the place seem welcoming. It was pathetic at best. To her left lay a closed door.

"Lieutenant Donovan," beckoned one of the two men before her, "please sit down."

She swallowed and did as instructed. He smiled. Both men before her were quite unremarkable in appearance, really. Unlike her superior, they were casually attired. Crew cuts spelled military, but the relaxed rolled-up sleeves of sweaters threw her off a bit. This situation minus her superior would warrant disbelief and impatience on her part, but he seemed to defer to them...and that definitely sanctioned caution.

"Would you like some coffee?" he asked and nodded to the man who accompanied her. "Admiral, would you do the honors?"

The Admiral complied. Donovan brought the cup to her lips, if only for civility's and curiousity's sake, and took a sip. She swallowed the brew in surprise. It was her favourite. Somebody must want her on their side.

"How did day fifteen of the deposition go?" asked the second man.

"Not as well as I'd hoped," she replied honestly.

"Oh?"

"As of an hour ago, Shepard is...non-committal. I'm giving her a day to think it over."

"Did you expect this?" asked the first man.

"Not really, no. They're just medical tests. Could almost qualify as your average physical. A free pass to get her reinstated. I would have jumped at the chance."

"But you're not Shepard, are you, Donovan?" questioned the second.

She didn't know what to say to this. "No. I'm not." Deflecting, "But Shepard isn't our only problem. There's something else. Anderson." She shook her held mildly and narrowed her eyes, remembering. "She defers to his judgment and he really didn't seem to take to our offer."

The man issued a knowing chuckle. "Isn't hard to see that one coming."

The Admiral spoke up for the first time. "So he's our fly in the lotion, then?" He scratched his brow thoughtfully and then shrugged his shoulders. "Transfer the fly elsewhere. Keep him busy. I can put in the request." Easy. No big deal.

"Shepard and Anderson have powerful friends, Admiral." replied the first.

"You mean Hackett, don't you?" said Donovan, looking around. "Word is that he was the one who sent Shepard to Aratoht."

"An unsubstantiated rumour. But true at the same time." said the second man, studying Donovan with keener interest than at the previous moment. "Hacket and Admiral are both valid concerns, but it is the loyalty that Shepard commands that troubles me. We can chain her down with whatever devices we employ, but sooner or later, her brigands will come for her. After all," and here he scoffed with unrestrained sarcasm, "galactic civilization is at stake."

"You don't believe that maybe," Donovan swallowed but ventured forward bravely, "...maybe there is some truth to what she saw? What we saw? It did attack the Citadel after all. And that kind of technology, it wasn't – "

"Are you starting to feel sympathetic to your client's position, Lieutenant?"

"Shepard remains my client on paper only, Sir." she assured. "I believe that she believes. And that the physical will only confirm her fragile state of mind. But there are a few outliers in this pattern. The Quarians have in their possession pieces of the destroyed Geth flagship – the one that attacked the Citadel – and even their scientists are stumped as to its origins. The Quarians were their creators. I think...I think they would know."

"It was the _Geth_ that tried to destroy the Citadel, Donovan, and no one else," emphasized the second. "A species that retreats from civilization as we know it for centuries is bound to evolve along its own alien path. None of it warrants comprehension. Sometimes the most obvious solution is the correct one. There are no demi-gods here. There are no Reapers. The fairy tales aren't true."

The first chimed in. "The Reapers are a false by-product. They are a persistent diversion that Shepard employs to keep her in the limelight. It's a very clever one, don't get me wrong. But it's still a diversion from the truth. The only thing that matters here is that – for too long – we've allowed one soldier to get away with everything. One soldier. _One_."

"_Everything_, Sir? What exactly did she get away with?" said Donovan.

"Detraction. Shepard as the first human Spectre was supposed to unite humanity. Instead, we had to entertain her dalliances with alien species. You're aware of the implications of that, aren't you? Cooperation is just a diplomatic term for unhindered reconnaissance. The thing is, Shepard wasn't smart enough to make it a two-way street. Are you aware that she shared pertinent information of the Geth with her Quarian crewmember? And what did the Quarians ever give us in return?"

"But you allowed it to continue...you went along with it."

"True, we were blinded by her accomplishments, we were all swept up in her euphoria. It's easy to take that kind of popularity and run with it. But the situation – it was bound to snowball out of our control. Shepard's convictions...they were more than we'd bargained for. And she had the Council on her side! Who could say _wrong_ when Shepard said _right_? Her relationship with Cerberus is the eye-opener they truly needed. It was, in some sense, a blessing."

"A blessing?" asked Donovan. "How is it a _blessing_?"

"Shepard's lack of...stability...her true nature, if you will, was revealed. Better than we'd hoped."

"_Better than you hoped?_" repeated Donovan, perplexed.

"Shepard was a ticking time-bomb. True, only someone with that degree of recklessness and guts could get our species the recognition we deserved...but let's admit," he issued a wry expression, "it was only a matter of time before she flipped the tables on us."

Donovan's neurons fired along multiple tangents. She looked back and forth between the two men. "So you closely monitored her activities? Was she initiating contact with Cerberus at that point?"

"Not Cerberus, no. There was something else on the horizon."

"_Something else?_"

The second man coughed.

And then the gears slid perfectly into place. The Collectors. They were aware of the Collectors well before the SR1 was hit. "Oh my God," she said softly. "You _knew._"

The men regarded each other and then rested their eyes back on her.

"You knew that the Normandy would be blown up? You knew that Cerberus would recover her body and bring her back?" It seemed impossible.

"Not...quite." said the first. "We were...aware that the Normandy was being dogged by another ship. There were certain transmissions that she picked up – embedded in other signatures. It was quite by luck that we'd discovered it. Normandy personnel never caught onto it and we took steps to ensure that this would remain so. At that point, we didn't even know of the Collectors' existence. We thought that they were trying to establish contact with the Normandy. We thought they were some of the _friends_ Shepard had made along the way during her pursuit of Saren. We decided to see how it played out. After all, the ship never really made an aggressive move." He paused, "Until the Taurus Quadrant incident, that is."

The second gave the first a warning stare, as if cautioning against these revelations. But the first dismissed this visual counsel, and continued.

"The Normandy was a state-of-the-art prototype stealth and reconnaissance vessel. After her success against the Geth ship on the Citadel, we recognized the need for more ships like her. Funding wasn't as hard to come by as we'd expected, so we started constructing a duplicate. We took the Normandy's successor out for a shakedown run – a low-critical mission, minimal crew – and lost her three days out from her launch. Black box emergency transmissions suggested that she was blown up by an unknown and unidentifiable ship. We had no idea how or why."

"They were after the SR1, weren't they..." understood Donovan.

The first turned his palms upward in a gesture of admission. "The only two ships in the galaxy to emit identical signatures. But only one had Commander Shepard on board."

"So you used the Normandy...you used Shepard as bait?"

"Yes." admitted the second. "And don't expect any apologies for it. Shepard was dragging the Alliance – and maybe even the rest of the galaxy – into an imaginary war. Now the Collectors – they weren't fictional. They were real and they were a potential threat. There was no way in hell we saw them coming. Yes, Shepard's ideals were never aligned with our own, and that needed to be fixed. But the insertion of the Collectors onto the scene changed everything. They were after her, and therefore, they were after the human Alliance. We needed to find out why."

"We did not intend for Shepard to die," said the first.

"But you weren't exactly the quickest on the scene either." shot back Donovan.

"The past cannot be reinvented. But you cannot deny that it's brought many things to light."

Donovan fidgeted quietly with her hands beneath the table. "You will have to...illuminate this one for me."

Both men smiled. The Admiral, seated all the while in silence, spoke. "The Collectors were after Shepard. Not me, not you, not any other individual in the Alliance, let alone the galaxy. And after she died, not only did the Collectors race towards a body, but they were competing for it with Cerberus. You've got to figure that after someone dies and their _corpse_ becomes a hot commodity, that there must be something goddamned special to make it worth their time. At this point, Lieutenant, I don't think our motivations could be less clear."

"So this entire..." she deliberated for a second in an attempt to avoid direct insolence, "..._procedure_ – this deposition isn't about dealing with Shepard's defection to Cerberus? It isn't about consequence or facing up to her decisions?"

"Don't you think that if we wanted her to stand trial, she would already be in Vancouver and we wouldn't even be sitting in this very room?" said the second in a smug undertone.

Donovan swallowed, trying to quell surging cycles of anger and disbelief. "While I cannot agree with Shepard's methods or her beliefs, her abrasive response to us – the Alliance – now seems to be justified. Your motivations...quite frankly, are beyond my comprehension. The only thing keeping me in this room is trying to figure out why the hell you're pouring out your souls to me."

"This isn't a moral committee," snapped the first, losing both his patience and the gist of her insinuation for the first time, "we didn't come here to explain ourselves to _you_."

Of course not, she realized. "Then why _did_ you bring me here?"

The Admiral turned towards her. "Are you aware of how long it's been since Cerberus detached itself from the Alliance?"

She nodded. "Yes. About two decades now."

"Twenty three years if you're counting." he clarified. "And they've drained our resources in more ways than one. We've lost more than a few good men and women to them. Not to mention critical intelligence. They've made tremendous strides in the execution of their operations, Lieutenant. And for the life of us, we can't figure out how."

"Let me guess," said Donovan, crossing her arms, "Shepard is the key."

"We may never find out why the Collectors were after Shepard. That's a trail we've reluctantly allowed to grow cold. But she still plays an important role here. Whoever Shepard was before the Normandy hit...that person is no more. She may be in possession of a few fragments of her personality, sure. After all, Cerberus needs her to put on a front, but – and you take my word for it – the individual you've been speaking with for the past few weeks is not the person we knew four years ago."

"I don't understand. The behavioural tests indicate that Shepard's mind has not been altered. They are, I'll admit, somewhat inconclusive without more physical data, but – "

"The results that are in your file there," the Admiral nodded towards Donovan's belongings, "are duplicates of those taken when Shepard first joined the Alliance."

Donovan stared at the folder as if regarding something alien. "Then where...?"

"The legitimate data is with us, Lieutenant. And it is most disconcerting." remarked the second.

She sat there quietly, transfixed by his words. He continued. "I'll give you the bare facts, shall I?" He began to roll out the evidence rapidly, as if each statement was fired dangerously and deliberately from a gun. "Shepard's IQ upon first joining the Alliance was one-hundred and thirty. Shepard's IQ now is one-hundred and ninety. Physical stress tests given to her now would have snapped her spine four years ago. It certainly would do that to your average Alliance soldier. Her immune system would even humble a Krogan. And her cybernetic implants are state-of-art. It makes what we have here in R&D look like relics. And this, Donovan, is only the first layer of the onion we've begun to peel off."

Donovan shut her eyes and rubbed her temples as if the action could ease her transition into this new and significantly deep pool of knowledge. "Those medical tests we asked her to take. They're not the standard..."

"Standard medical examinations will not tell us what we need to know. Invasive ones will."

"They could potentially...damage cognitive processes, couldn't they?"

"We live in an age where information is power, Lieutenant. And knowledge isn't static, it is alive and continuously evolving. We stand still and we die. We may be the Council's pet for the moment, but how long before they turn on us? And if they do, how the hell are we supposed to counter their knowledge? Their technology? There are too many aliens out there and too few of us. Take the Turians for example. True, we've held them off before. But that was then and this is now. The Turians aren't stupid. You can be certain that they've learned much from our first dead-lock and they won't repeat the same mistakes again. And the Krogans? Our intelligence suggests that some rogue Salarian is halfway towards curing the Genophage. You think we can survive a Krogan onslaught? The Asari and Turians combined barely held their ground. _We need knowledge_, Lieutenant. We are lost without it." He leaned back in his seat and gave her a grim look.

Donovan raised her hand to her mouth thoughtfully. "I still don't understand. What do you want me to do? I can't exactly force Shepard to take the tests." _Nor do I want to_, she realized.

"No," acknowledged the first, "but you can sign the papers that will confirm that Shepard is not of sound mind and requires immediate medical treatment. You were an Alliance doctor three years ago, and you are currently her representative should her case go to trial. Which," he added with a degree of smugness, "we are certain it will not."

"You can surely get someone else to do this?" she issued with a dry and nervous laugh.

"We could, yes. But that would take time. And could get messy. For everyone involved." His eyes rested on her for the better part of a minute.

The Admiral appraised Donovan. "Well, what do you say, Lieutenant?"

* * *

Shepard staggered stupidly behind Anderson, her mind sluggish. "You owe me an explanation."

His pace quickened and he shot her a look. He took in the bloodshot eyes and the darkened circles beneath them. _Now isn't the time_, he reminded himself. "Explanations will come later. We need to get you to Vancouver."

"God damn it, Anderson, why won't you slow down?" she accosted him with her raised voice, and this turned heads and cost him his steady pace. "What's in Vancouver?" she asked more quietly.

"Your trial."

She stopped dead in her tracks. "My deposition isn't over. We have a day to think this over. That day is not over yet. Are you out of your mind?"

"No!" he replied forcefully. "_You_ are, with _your_ – " he waved, in an expression of distaste at her anemic pallor and haggard eyes, " – whatever you're doing. I'm not a fool, Shepard." He swallowed in an attempt to curb his rising temper. "But we can't do this now. I need to get you to Vancouver."

"All these days, all this time, we've been trying to avoid this outcome. I...don't understand."

He paused for an instant. His features softened and spoke in a kinder tone. "Do you trust me, Shepard?"

"I...yes. You know that I do."

"Do you trust me in the same way that you trusted me when the Normandy was grounded the last time?"

She stared at him. The gears were chugging slowly, but they all worked towards the same conclusion.

"Lead the way." she said finally.

And with a grim smile on Anderson's part, the pair walked steadily on.

* * *

The shuttle pilot was unfamiliar to her, and it temporarily threw her off. She was on the lookout for the familiar. He remained dutifully reticent despite her introduction. He headed inside while Anderson stood with her in its doorway.

"What about now?" she asked quietly.

He shook his head. "Not out here. Walls and ears. You know."

"Who're we waiting for?"

"You'll see."

Within moments, a familiar figure approached the pair from outside. Lieutenant Donovan.

Shepard pursed her dry lips and made no pretense of the fact that Donovan's presence was unwelcome. She turned to Anderson. "So is she going to _Vancouver_ too, then?" Try as she might, she could not keep the sarcasm out of her voice.

"The Lieutenant is your legal representative and as an Alliance soldier, she is also your escort." Anderson's official spin on the statement fell flat – as he had intended it to. He glanced at Shepard and issued a barely perceptible nod.

"You're not coming?" asked Shepard.

"I can't. There are some things I need to take care of."

"We should get going." said Donovan, her face suffused with anxiety. It was not an expression that Shepard or Anderson were accustomed to.

"Right. Okay." said Shepard.

She moved slowly into the shuttle, uncertainty and anticipation tumbling about in her stomach. Donovan instructed the pilot to begin his ascent, while Shepard stared at Anderson's still figure through a window in the side door. As the shuttle drew further and further away, Anderson became a tiny unmoving speak on the horizon, and it took Donovan's voice to jolt Shepard out of her trance.

"He's sacrificed a lot for you, you know." said the Lieutenant.

"And you? What have you sacrificed?" questioned Shepard quietly.

"As of this moment. Everything."

Shepard regarded her suspiciously. "Is that so."

Donovan met Shepard's gaze with a challenging one of her own. "You may want to believe I'm the enemy, Shepard – and, okay...I'll admit, you'd have called that one right a few hours ago – but not today. Not now."

"You could still be taking me to Vancouver. For all I know, when this thing lands, there'll be press and guards and shackles. I'll be right where you wanted me all these weeks. Convicted and behind bars. I ought to cold-cock the pilot and drop you somewhere where it'll take days for the Alliance to find you."

"If you truly wanted that," said Donovan knowingly, "you'd have done it as soon as the door was shut. But you won't. And you know why you won't? Because of Anderson. If he plays along, you will too." She paused before continuing. "There is, of course, one other reason."

"And what's that?"

Over the radio came forth a clear voice. Familiar. "_Normandy to Effugere. What's your ETA and is the package prepped for retrieval?_"

_Joker_, mouthed Shepard.

"Normandy, this is Effugere. Package is a go and we'll be at your location at eighteen hundred hours." responded the shuttle pilot.

"_Acknowledged. See you soon._"

Shepard stood stock still; her demeanor one of shock and surprise.

Donovan laughed despite herself.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** A hefty thank-you to Theodur and Zalistra for their reviews. Your opinions mean a lot, and help me keep writing.

This transition chapter was a little more difficult for me to write - partly due to tiredness and because I desperately want all the interactions to come off as believable. I also feel compelled to apologize for the slower pacing - I firmly believe in a good buildup, and tend to lose faith in the characters and plot development if I dive too quickly into the action.

Thank you again to those who take the time to read and review.

* * *

**Chapter 3**

She closed her eyes for the duration of the shuttle ride. But try as she might to dog sleep, it eluded her and she grew weary of the chase. Through partially-lidded eyes, she peered at Donovan. She woman had removed her glasses and sat with them in her lap, staring into space, making no effort to disguise her muted reverie. Her gaze was downcast and her expression sober. If it wasn't for the movement of her eyes – she could have passed for a statue – immortalized by disconsolation.

"What changed your mind?" spoke Shepard.

Donovan gave a slight jolt. "I...sorry, what?"

"I'm willing to bet that a few hours ago, you never could have foreseen this." Shepard gave Donovan a thin smile. "So what changed?"

Donovan took a deep breath. "I'm still trying to work that one out, Shepard. All I know is...it all felt so wrong."

Shepard shook her head, unconvinced. "Yeah, but it must've taken a pretty large degree of persuasion for you to start seeing things from this side of the bridge."

"I never said that our..._convictions_ are aligned."

"You're on a shuttle with an excommunicated Alliance soldier, helping her dodge a couple bureaucratic bullets. I'm sorry to have to tell you this, Donovan, but it doesn't get more aligned than that."

Donovan issued a grim smile. "I beg to differ. I haven't quite managed the leap from disagreeing with my superiors to developing a fanatical belief in your demi-gods, Shepard. The afore-mentioned is probably all we have in common at this point. But," and then she sighed, "I have to admit that that particular stretch of common ground is pretty large."

"You still didn't answer my question," reminded Shepard gently.

Donovan chuckled and then sighed. "I suppose I didn't. I just feel so foolish." She glanced up at Shepard, "Now don't go getting any ideas. This whole _Reaper_ thing – I've not come around on that. I just feel as if I've been made to look a damned idiot. Foolish because they took my convictions, my hard work, and chiseled it into something just plain..._wrong_. They shaped it to ruin a life. Three hours ago, I strongly believed that you had to be held accountable for turning your back on the Alliance and shacking up with Cerberus – uh...no offense,"

Shepard looked away. "Don't mention it."

"...Well, they weren't looking for accountability at all. And the longer I was in that room, the more I realized that our best interests – _humanity's_ best interests – weren't the stakes for which we were playing. The top of the food chain was what it was all about. And they were so damned transparent about it all – they had the audacity to admit that I was being used and then followed that up with another request for my help. They wasted time – _my_ time, not to mention _my_ beliefs – all for their own definition of the greater good."

"So," began Shepard quietly, "let me get this straight. You're helping me out because they wounded your ego?"

"Of course not." snapped Donovan. "If that's the impression I'm giving, then I'm saying it wrong. It's just that...have you ever gone through your entire life tied and bound to your ideals, used them as support, crutches or what-have-you...and then have it tugged right out of your hands?" She stared at a somber Shepard for several moments and then nodded to herself. "What am I talking about...of course you have."

"It doesn't make it any less disconcerting, you know," commiserated Shepard.

"How do you mean?"

Shepard looked away and out of the portside window. "When we first found out about the Reapers, what we felt – it was indescribable. You realize that things you take for granted aren't tangible anymore. And then...then it hits you that maybe they never were in the first place. So what is? The people you're fighting for – they're real. The likelihood that they could all die if we didn't do anything – that was real. Your mind tries to shove aside the improbable and assign commonplace labels. The Reapers were our enemies; just like people we've fought in the past. A whole lot bigger and meaner – but enemies nonetheless. Your mind gradually begins to accept these new conventions and eventually adjusts to them."

Shepard fidgeted momentarily before continuing. "I thought that the existence of the Reapers would be the first and last thing to shake me to the core. I guess I was wrong."

Donovan listened to her talk; in rapt attention. This was a side to Shepard that had never been revealed before – less defensive, more introspective, but honest. _God_, the woman seemed so refreshingly honest. "Did you lose your faith in the Alliance?" asked Donovan.

Shepard turned her gaze back on the other woman. "I lost faith a while ago, if you haven't already noticed. But they lost faith in me too, and frankly, who can blame them? I could have cooperated with any other group in the galaxy – heck, maybe even the Blue Suns, but it had to be with Cerberus. That's like...well, it's like teaming up with someone who murdered your parents."

"But what was it? What shook you up worse than the Reapers?" questioned Donovan impatiently.

"I believe you already know that, Lieutenant."

Donovan's brows furrowed; perplexed. She opened her mouth to continue, but was interrupted by the pilot's voice.

"Almost there folks. You ready to go home, Shepard?"

* * *

She had braced herself for the strangeness of it all – it was a little over a year now, albeit a year that stretched itself out to seem like decades – the strangeness of setting foot back onto the Normandy, Joker at the helm, the assiduous noises of the crew, the subtle hum of the Normandy's engines...but it was very slow in the coming. Her boot met the metallic floor with a familiar soft clang. It took her a minute to realize that there would be no deviance in this reunion; she was, after all, coming home.

"You have to realize that some compromises have to be made, of course," came Donovan's voice, as they were halfway up the gangway and into the ship.

"Compromises?" asked Shepard with mild concern, all musings about this homecoming temporarily pushed aside.

"We don't exactly see eye to eye when it comes to the Reapers, Shepard, but I will agree that something is brewing out there – something we're not quite ready for yet. It could be the Geth. Or it could be the Collectors – they may be gunning for some retaliation."

_Get to the point_, Shepard silently urged.

Donovan went on. "The Reapers could prove to be a dangerous distraction. I needed to take necessary precautions to ensure that your..." here, she paused, searching for a more considerate term, "_passionate_ endeavors do not obscure the real threat."

"Why didn't you tell me this back on the shuttle?" Shepard tried to keep the annoyance out of her voice. After all, it was only minutes ago when she was certain that she and Donovan were beginning to reach some semblance of mutual agreement. If this consensus was deteriorating, she did not want to accelerate the process more than necessary.

Donovan's face tightened, in anticipation of a return to their customary yet polite bickering. Yes, Shepard was right – she should have told her on the shuttle. And the fact that Shepard was right – someone who Donovan was convinced was not quite stable – provoked her. But the situation had capsized so dramatically in the span of a few hours that it had buried her involuntary response with it.

Her face softened. "I...apologize. It's a lot to take in, and I suppose I wanted the opportunity to earn your trust."

Shepard let out a breath. "It's okay. You're right. It's a lot to take in – for the both of us." It should have come as no surprise, realized Shepard. Donovan wasn't exactly the type of character to throw caution to the wind. Her risks were calculated ones, designed with very specific failsafes to keep the situation under control. It was then and with some irony that Shepard recognized that she might have done exactly what Donovan did, had their places been reversed. Neither Anderson nor Donovan could have released Shepard so efficiently and quietly on their own. It was just as Donovan had said – compromises had to be made.

"So what exactly did Anderson and I concede to for you to get me out of the frying pan?" asked Shepard.

Donovan gave Shepard a knowing smile. "I haven't quite put you into the fire, you know. I have decided to place another Alliance officer in charge of the Normandy, however. You will remain second in the chain of command."

_So,_ mused Shepard, she was executive officer number two. Okay. She could deal with that. "Any other changes I should be aware of?" she asked, trying to sound relatively congenial.

"No. Just the one."

"So who did you put in charge of her?"

"_Her?_"

"The Normandy."

"You'll see. I believe you are already acquainted."

* * *

She sat alone in the briefing room, gazing around the sleek silver and white edges of its interior. The only familiar face she had run into was Joker's. She found it interesting to note that his dark slacks and SR2 baseball cap were not exactly Alliance-endorsed. Then again, there was very little about Joker that drew Alliance connotations, and Shepard acknowledged that it was one distinctively appealing side of his persona. He issued a few snide remarks when Donovan's attention lay elsewhere, hinted at his disapproval at the switching in the chain of command but then gave a nonchalant shrug. Shepard was back where she belonged, and after all, it could be worse.

It certainly could, realized Shepard.

Before she could probe him with more questions about the crew, Donovan insisted on her waiting in the briefing room for a few minutes. Some new developments had surfaced and she needed to adjust appropriately.

Shepard's eyes fell onto the room's centerpiece; a polished oak table – hooked up to the Normandy's drive core and communications beacon. A memory skipped back to an image of the submerging table, allowing for direct communication with the Illusive Man. Another memory and she was in the midst of an argument between Jacob Taylor and Miranda Lawson. Okeer's legacy, Grunt, the flawless Krogan warrior – pull the plug or keep him? _I'm not prepared to needlessly obliterate him. He could be a very valuable asset to our team_, echoed the walls in Shepard's voice. A third memory, and the Normandy's AI surfaced in an attempt to comfort Joker after the crew had been abducted by the Collectors on Joker's watch.

She was more human than the rest of us at times, realized Shepard. Precisely the reason for why the Alliance would make it their priority to disable her programming.

"EDI?" whispered Shepard, almost as if she was addressing her memories. Silence filled the empty space of a few minutes.

And then, a familiar greeting. "_Hello, Commander Shepard_."

Shepard's heart skipped a beat and her face broke out into a wide smile. "EDI...you have no idea how good it feels to hear your voice."

"_Likewise, Shepard_."

"Where are you? I don't see your uh...orb,"

"_Hidden for the time being. I am here in spirit, though_," joked EDI.

"Took your sweet time to respond though, didn't you?" goaded Shepard playfully.

"_It was deliberate but not voluntary, I assure you_."

"Am I to assume that they did not want you speaking with me then?"

"_Astute as always, Shepard_."

"Aren't they aware that you're an AI?"

"_No. And Joker would like to keep it that way. He's gone to great lengths to convince them that my spirited personality is a result of accumulated errors. As he puts it – my algorithms were engineered by a sociopath whose ultimate erotic fantasy was to bed a sexy robot_."

Shepard let out a dry laugh. "If they bought Joker's story, then what's the harm in a little chat?"

"_A chat would constitute an exchange of information. Hypothetically speaking, let us assume that there is some information that you are not to be privy to as yet. And again, let's hypothetically assume that they're concerned that my loyalty to you would bypass my programming and thereby compromise this data exchange_."

Shepard laughed and feigned surprise. "_You?_ Take on human tendencies? Not in a million years." Her eyes twinkled, "You wouldn't be speaking with me out of this hypothetical notion of loyalty, now would you? After all, sexy robots aren't known for being sentimental towards old allegiances."

"_Very droll, Shepard_."

"I try."

"_If it's any consolation, I don't believe you will be kept in the dark for much longer_."

"No consolation necessary, EDI. I've gotten used to the dark."

"_For what it's worth, while Major Alenko may be in command of our mission and this ship, his station is purely academic. While I no longer subscribe to nor act on the Illusive Man's orders, when he put you in charge of the Normandy – of __**me**__ – that may have been one of the best tactical accomplishments of his illustrious career_."

Shepard's head jerked up in attention. "_Major_ Alenko? And he's in charge of the Normandy?"

"_Oops._" said EDI dryly.

"How did he end up back here? I thought he was stationed on Horizon to help the colony recover?"

"_It could have something to do with some blueprints that Doctor T'Soni discovered on Mars._"

"Wait...Liara is on Mars? What blueprints?"

"_Oops. Do forgive my wagging tongue, Shepard. I tend to let it get ahead of me._"

"Very droll, EDI."

"_Thank you. I try._"

"Now how about you give that hypothetical loyalty another shot and tell me everything you know?"

"_Very well, Shepard_."

* * *

Thirty minutes later and EDI had managed to extensively fill a very wide gap of Shepard's knowledge. Alenko's rapid rise through the ranks and transfer back to the Normandy took her by surprise. It was a logical career move, however, given that Alenko had helped Shepard destroy Saren and the Geth, and that his loyalty to the Alliance remained resolute and solid.

It proved even more solid than his relationships with his friends. _And lovers_, thought Shepard, with a bitterness that she could not deny.

Their reunion on Horizon turned sour fast. They stood on opposite sides of the fence, but gazed at similar ends. He was adamant that their ends did not converge. And the way he had looked at her then – her heart sank at the recollection – the way he eyed her with that suspicion, contempt even, it was with that same measure of disapproval and mistrust that the Council had regarded her truth about the Reapers. He looked at her and saw betrayal. He looked at her and saw a pawn. He looked at her and saw a clone.

_Not a clone_, she told herself, almost aloud. _No_. People just saw what they wanted to see.

But why then did Kaidan want to see a traitor?

Her brows knitted together as her thoughts rustled against one another tumultuously. He wasn't the first and he certainly wouldn't be the last to give up on her. Involuntarily, her mind wandered towards Ashley's ghost. She couldn't help but feel that Ash – even with all her xenophobic tendencies – would have come to understand the gravity of their circumstances. Sure, she may have disapproved at first, but she was rational. Perhaps Ash would have seen past false political manufacturings and to the root of the matter. Cerberus was the only option.

_I had no choice_, Shepard thought. _I honestly had no choice. _

_Or did I?_

_You can doubt anything, Shepard, but to doubt yourself...there begins the root of failure_.

"Liara..." murmured Shepard, tired. "You should be here on the Normandy. Not...not out there."

EDI had informed her that Liara, having run through and examined the former Shadow Broker's information inventory on the Collectors, had stumbled upon something interesting in the Sol cluster. On Mars, to be exact. It was interesting enough for her to temporarily abandon her deviously concealed station on Hagalaz for several weeks. Liara hadn't been very forthcoming with information on this find, but Shepard attributed this lack of exchange to the Asari's cautious nature. Speculation could raise or dash hopes – and Shepard was certain that Liara would conduct a thorough examination of this discovery before committing to any form of a conclusion.

But right now, as intriguing as this information sounded, she found that what she needed right now...was a friend. No questions, no answers, just the unspoken and comfortable bond of friendship.

_Life isn't about getting what you deserve_.

_Self-pity, self-indulgence – this isn't you, Shepard_.

_Then what is?_

* * *

"I apologize for keeping you waiting," said Donovan as she entered the briefing room.

Shepard said nothing, but quietly observed the figure step forward from behind the Lieutenant. He wore his casual military garb with the same relaxed demeanor that she had been accustomed to. Of course now the subtle changes in colours – his lapel around the collar, the cuff of his sleeves and a few modest lines of colour near his chest – signified his rise in military stature. But something else seemed amiss. There was a deliberate stiffness about the shoulders, a near-inconspicuous knitting of the brows, and all the while his eyes apprehended her with a gaze that she could not, for the life of her, interpret.

On his part, Kaidan Alenko remained still next to Donovan, taking in Shepard's form. Shepard did likewise, and the pair regarded one another in uncertain assessment. As soon as Donovan made a move to sit down, their wordless appraisal of one another ceased. He followed suit and nodded in Shepard's direction.

"It's good to see you again, Quinn." he said, his voice surprisingly warm.

Warmth – she wasn't expecting that. Shepard met it with a contrasting coldness. "It's _Shepard_ actually. Major." She looked at Donovan. "Should I salute him or something?"

"That...uh...won't be necessary," stumbled Kaidan.

Donovan coughed and shifted in her seat uncomfortably. "There's been some blowback in your disappearance. Anticipated fallout of course – you can't expect your committee to sit back and let things take its course."

"I presume that we've left Anderson behind holding the bag. Again." said Shepard, upset that it had come to this once more.

"He's doing a good job of it," Kaidan stepped in, "And don't forget – we..._you've_ still got some friends in high places. He isn't alone."

"Admiral Hackett has your committee entrenched in legalities they've exploited, which – as it turns out – might require a second committee to oversee the first." explained Donovan.

"My committee? Weren't you a part of that too?"

"I was. A peon – judging by recent events – but a part of it nevertheless. I'm out of the picture now, however." Donovan twirled a pen between thumb and forefinger. "I imagine that they may leave a significant portion of the mess for me to clean up when I get back."

"What kind of legalities?" asked Shepard.

"They modified some of your medical records."

"How? Which ones?"

Kaidan cleared his throat. "We don't have time to go there. The point is...we have about a week before everything is cleared up and they come for you." He gave Shepard a knowing look, "And I know what you're going to say next. We can stay out of range – limit ourselves to the Terminus systems. But you can bet your life that the Alliance will take this matter to the Council. There is the very likely possibility that they'll revoke your Spectre status. We can't fight the enemy and our allies at the same time."

"The Major is right. We need to think fast, move fast. We need to give them something. Evidence." said Donovan.

"Of the Reapers? I thought you said you didn't believe in them."

"You bring me the evidence, Shepard, and then we'll see. Given what's happened in the last twenty-four hours, I'd be a fool if I didn't keep an open mind." replied Donovan.

"That's real great," said Shepard sardonically, "but unless you want to make a trip beyond the Perseus Veil to go visit some old synthetic pals of mine, this needle is buried under mile-high haystacks."

"Doctor T'Soni disagrees," said Donovan. "She believes that her find is quite significant and relevant to what you've been pursuing for the last few years."

"What _exactly_ did she find?"

"She won't say. Not to us, at least. She wishes to communicate with you directly. She is standing by as we speak, in fact."

Donovan leaned forward and pressed a few buttons located at the table's center. There was a barely audible hum, and cerulean pixels conducted a near-celestial dance before an electric blue hologram of an Asari's face materialized. The large eyes scanned the people in front of her before finally resting on Shepard. Even through the limitations of the flickering strobe, the muscles on Liara's face visibly relaxed into a gentle smile on seeing an old friend.

"_Shepard...it's good to see you. It's been too long. I'm sorry for not keeping in contact – I should have. There were so many opportunities but, I was afraid –_ " the familiar voice launched forward apologetically, and for a minute, it was as if Liara had reverted back to the phrases and emotions that betrayed her introverted disposition.

It was endearing and Shepard was reminded of how much she missed her, their conversations, discussions, their friendship. " – It's alright, Liara. There really wouldn't have been anything you could have done at your end anyway."

"_I could have been a better friend_," replied the Asari.

"You've done more than most. More than I can hope to repay." For a split second, Shepard intended to direct an accusatory gaze in Kaidan's direction – she had to admit, it would have felt tremendously cathartic in having done so. But before she could act upon such antagonistic tendencies, Liara's voice carried her away from the moment with a sense of urgency.

"_I've stumbled across something I believe you'll find very interesting, Shepard. Interesting enough that I believe you need to come down in here and see it in person_."

"What is it?" asked Shepard and Kaidan in unison.

"_Schematics, I believe. In the archives here_."

"Prothean?" asked Donovan.

"_Not...exactly. There are some elements of Prothean technological architecture in the designs, but there are more alien components as well_."

"Alien?" said Kaidan.

"Does is pre-date the Protheans?" asked Shepard.

"_Yes to both. The design specifications appear to indicate that they were building some sort of vessel. A ship or a station – I'm not sure. And it was a collective venture – by different species – and therein lies the dilemma_."

Kaidan and Donovan leaned forward – as if the movement could bring them closer to a truth that eluded them. Shepard, in contrast, sat back in her seat. Her thoughts and ideas coalesced – falling into old tendencies; logical appraisals, rational deductions. And in re-discovering this familiar territory, her confidence surged. Perhaps this wasn't quite the homecoming she'd expected, but it felt good to be back regardless.

"So the question is, how did these different species – separated not only by space, but by time – collaborate on the same project? For the Protheans to stumble across it, and a race before them and so on...it can't be coincidence. It's almost like...the Citadel." deduced Shepard.

"_Exactly_," declared Liara. "_Those were my thoughts exactly_."

"I'm sorry," interrupted Donovan, "I don't follow."

"If you would suspend your disbelief for a minute," Shepard presented a conciliatory expression, "Before Sovereign attacked the Citadel, we conversed with him. This together with the information from Prothean VI on Ilos led us to believe that the Reapers designed the mass relays. And the Citadel as well. What better way to ensure the destruction of forerunning galactic civilizations than to have them all collectively _installed_ – pardon the crude terminology – in the same location? The Citadel is a technological marvel. You have to admit, there's nothing else in the galaxy that could hold its own alongside of it. What better place to set up home base?"

Donovan's breathing quickened. The Turians, Salarians and, more importantly, the Asari had conceded that many machinations of the Citadel were beyond their comprehension. The Mass Relay once thought to be a monument had humbled their collective knowledge. None of them even suspected that is was an actual, working conduit into the heart of the Citadel. This was more than a sliver of logic. If Shepard's ravings were that of a madman – and the consensus on that was rapidly diminishing – she was a very intelligent one.

"I...okay. I understand. But what's the connection between the Citadel and Dr. T'Soni's schematics?"

"_The common denominator, Donovan, is that past species that never existed together – separated by millennia – discovered both. And appropriated both_." explained Liara.

"Is it Reaper tech?" questioned Shepard.

"_I am not sure_."

"To what end?" asked Kaidan. "Were all these races attempting to construct a space station?"

"_I am no longer certain if they're designs for a station. I've shared some aspects of the schematics with a friend who worked in weapons development. If what he's reading is accurate, the designs incorporate some pretty hefty firepower._"

"So what?" shrugged Kaidan. "Even Omega has some bulky and crude defenses."

"_The schematics are only one half of the puzzle; we're not the only group interested in these designs. Cerberus is actively searching for them too. That's what initially put me on the trail_." Liara paused, allowing for this new development to sink in. "_There were funds being siphoned from corporations that backed Cerberus behind the books. A lot of payments were issued to a single front organization, going by the name of Echidna. I knew where to dig, and was blessed with good resources and contacts. It wasn't hard to figure out that Echidna and Cerberus were one and the same_."

"What is Cerberus after?" asked Kaidan. And at this, his eyes rested on Shepard. The look wasn't exactly denunciatory, but it was calculating one.

Shepard stared back, unflinching. _Why the hell do you assume I would know_, she thought?

Liara, oblivious to the subtle interaction, offered a speculative explanation. "_The same blueprints in my possession right now. It would appear that they have been searching for them for a few years. If that is the case, then perhaps they know more about them than we do._"

"Is your information solid?" asked Donovan tentatively.

"_Information is my business, Lieutenant. If I wasn't good at it, we wouldn't even be having this conversation right now._"

"Who exactly are your sources, Doctor?" questioned Donovan.

Shepard's head snapped in Liara's direction. Donovan was not aware of Liara's pivotal role in the field of information gathering. Having dispatched the former Shadow Broker, the Asari scientist had assumed his place. After all, as she had once said – _this was an opportunity of a lifetime; how could she turn it down_? And she had appropriated his resources with such ease that it was hard to deny her natural aptitude for it. _Give me ten minutes and I could start a war_, she had declared. There was little doubt there. _But helping you fight the Collectors, the Reapers, it will keep me honest_. And she had worked diligently towards that purpose, all the while maintaining discretion regarding her stewardship of this wealth of information.

To the outside world – especially during and after her career with Shepard – she was nothing more than a distinguished consultant; a Prothean expert who cooperated with Shepard to bring down Saren and the Geth. And Liara worked assiduously to preserve this persona.

She certainly wasn't prepared to let it dissolve before her because of a few miscalculated words.

Shepard quickly stepped in; in a tone that offered a dismissive explanation. "Liara's earned a few favours here and there. Enough for her to build up a small reputation in the field. She...offers her services on a paid, consulting basis on Ilium. Helps people track down family members who've disappeared. Locating stolen credits. You know."

Donovan raised her eyebrows, but said nothing and did not pursue the matter.

Kaidan massaged a developing knot at the back of his neck. His knowledge of Liara's activities were slightly more extensive than that of Donovan's. He had his suspicions that Liara's role as an information broker ran deeper than her activities on Ilium, but any other deductions were speculative at best. And after the SR1 was destroyed, after he and the crew had gone their separate ways, it was a little too easy to cease communication with the rest of them. And when the worst kept secret in the galaxy was out of the bag, and he discovered that not only was Shepard alive but was fraternizing with Cerberus, he made some sincere efforts to get back in touch with them. He was left with emotions of angry abandonment, and searched earnestly for a soul to commiserate with.

It turned out that he would not find one in Liara.

He let out a breath – as if the act of exhalation could purge sour emotions to make room for much-needed clarity. Cerberus' involvement carried with it dangerous implications. And it was at this moment when all the memories associated with his frayed relationship with Liara began to evaporate, and were replaced by genuine concern for an old friend.

When Shepard spoke up, it was apparent that she too had followed the same line of thought. "If you and Cerberus are after the same thing, and you're alone up there, I take it that they haven't beat you to the punch?"

Liara shook her head. "_Not yet. But they'll be here sooner or later. Which is why I need you to come down. Take a look at this thing for yourself_."

"Why can't you retrieve it and meet us at a safer location?" asked Donovan.

"_I can't leave here just yet. There may be more information here. More evidence_."

"Liara," urged Shepard, "You're alone up there and Cerberus could be at your doorstep any time now. We won't be able to get to you in time from here if the situation heats up."

"_You'd better hurry then, hadn't you_?"


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Had to remove, edit and re-post this chapter because I really unhappy with the latter half. I wanted to split it in two, but realized that might interrupt the flow – and since the Mars mission is a critical precursor that helps set the stage for the rest of the game's storyline, I didn't want to damage it.

I decided to include Vega after all. I never really disliked him…actually, I felt very little towards his character in the game. I decided to change his background a little more and give him a darker edge, so I apologize if this might upset anyone.

Yet another thank you to Zalistra, Theodur, Kias and Calamitous Serendipity for their detailed reviews. I eat up your input greedily, and I honestly believe that it helps me develop as a writer. Please let me know if I can return the favour.

**A/N (updated on 9/4/12):** Thanks to Theodur and Calamitous Serendipity for reviewing this chapter! I've tried to fix two critical errors pointed out to me by Calamitous Serendipity, keep the critiques coming! :)

* * *

**Chapter 4**

"I just think we'd better talk about it, is all," he explained as he walked behind her towards Normandy's shuttle deck.

Their armored boots clinked against the metal flooring, and Kaidan dutifully inspected his rifle for the third time before slinging it over his shoulder. She, on the other hand, snapped her pistol into a side holster without examining its safety, and deftly fitted and adjusted her gauntlets in the matter of a few seconds.

She refused to slow down, maintaining a pace that betrayed tension across an entire spectrum of issues. "I'm not looking for therapy, Kaidan. And let's face it, you want me to be okay with it so that your conscience will be free of guilt because you're commanding the Normandy now."

"You think I feel guilty?" he issued a hollow laugh.

She slammed her palm against a panel that opened the shuttle bay doors. "Of course. You've never been in charge of her – you might have always coveted that role, but now that she's yours, it feels wrong." The door slid open and she resumed her quick stride.

"There's absolutely nothing wrong with this arrangement, Shepard. It's perfectly sound and it was a rational decision made in everyone's best interest."

"If you've come to that solid of a conclusion, Kaidan, then why raise the issue in the first place?" she demanded.

"Because tempers are bound to flare and a situation might arise where the crew won't know who to look to for authority. We need to get it out of the way now."

"_Fine_," she responded curtly, "if anyone asks me a question I'll just tell them to go straight to the boss. Because I clearly don't have any comprehension of what the stakes are."

"I don't know what you've been smoking in the last couple hours, but given your history – and regardless of my thoughts on the matter – why would the Alliance give _you_ the reins to the Normandy? So you can fly her back to Cerberus?"

The minute the words shot out of his mouth, he grimaced and stopped in place. "Shepard, I...I never meant it like that. It's just – "

She was rooted in place as well. "You called it as you saw it." Her voice was remarkably calm.

"But it's not what I meant."

"You're just keeping your enemy closer, is that what you meant to say instead?"

"Please stop putting words in my mouth."

Her lips parted, as if to counter the request with further hostility, but then she thought better of it. "Look. _This_ – what we're doing now," she gestured with an index finger back and forth between the two of them, "shouldn't matter anymore. We're running out of time. And my..._our_ friend is out there risking her neck for the both of us while we stand here and bicker over who should be head pirate. You want to talk about it? Fine. We'll do that, but not here and definitely not now."

His eyes remained fixed on her but said nothing. In a moment that seemed eternal, she finally pulled away and entered the shuttle.

* * *

A minute or two after they had both boarded the small craft, the pilot followed suit. He crouched slightly and offered a hand to Shepard and a conciliatory smile.

"Commander," he began, "Steve Cortez. Your resident Kodiak pilot. Sorry we couldn't meet under better circumstances. I understand your friend might be needing some muscle?"

Shepard gave him a worried smile. "Let's hope it won't come to that at all, Cortez. We...uh, going to leave soon?"

"Waiting on one more, Commander. Should be here by now." He stuck his head out the open door, and called out loudly. "Hey, _Pendejo!_ Pick up your pants and get your ass in here – we're waiting on you!"

A few moments later, a man emerged into the doorway. Even his armor could not conceal his stalwart, tank-like build – and from a purely tactical point of view, his presence should have elicited relief. But it was with some mild concern and sadness that Shepard realized that he could have been the same age as Corporal Jenkins had been when he was killed. She had seen history repeat itself far too many times, and didn't want this kid to follow in his footsteps.

"James Vega, Commander," he introduced himself.

"Loves to make an entrance," muttered Cortez as he moved into the cockpit. "Don't let him give you any sass, Commander. He isn't the greatest when it comes to taking orders. Give him an inch and he'll take a – "

"Isn't it your job to fly this boat and not be the in-flight entertainment?" shot back Vega.

"See what I mean?" winked Cortez before he turned his attention to the Kodiak's console.

* * *

The shuttle departed the Normand'y hangar with a rhythmic shudder before growing steady. Thrusters kicked into higher power, and the small vessel began its descent.

"I will admit," said Vega, "that when the Alliance transferred me onto something _slightly more exciting than a flagship_ – their words, mind you – never thought I'd be on board the SR2." He gave a broad grin. "Hell, let alone the Normandy, I never thought I'd ever get to fight alongside the likes of you, Commander."

"Looks like Christmas came early for you, huh Jimmy?" called out Cortez from the front.

Vega dismissed the light badgering with a shake of his head.

"I...uh, don't think you should be calling me Commander," said Shepard. "I have officially been stripped of all military rank. Come to think of it, I don't think I even qualify as a dishonorable discharge or a civvy anymore."

"Fair enough." said Vega, leaning back into his seat. All trace of humour quickly dissipated from his face, and he gave her a solid stare. "So what exactly _is_ your title these days, Shepard? You Cerberus or Alliance now?"

She hesitated for a moment before speaking. "Does it really matter anymore? I mean, I'm here now – we're on the same team – I've always been on the same side."

"That's debatable." replied Vega.

A thick silence followed. Kaiden removed his rifle and began conducting a thorough inspection of it. Shepard glanced in Cortez's direction, but even he kept his head leveled at the horizon before them, and said nothing.

If the same words had been issued from Kaidan's mouth, the remark would have resulted in an impudent comeback on her part. But coming from James Vega, she was uncertain about how to field it. She decided to play it careful.

"You have something against me, Cerberus...or both?" she questioned, her voice low.

Vega shrugged his shoulders, trying to appear nonchalant. But there was a tautness in the action, a stiffness about the neck and a quiet but steady fire in his eyes. "It ain't as black and white as that, Shepard. And anyway, I'm just curious – that's it."

"Curious about where my loyalties lie?" Shepard said quietly.

Kaidan raised his gaze from his rifle and allowed it to settle on Vega.

"I bet you get asked that every day, huh?" deduced Vega. He seemed slightly rueful, and avoided eye contact momentarily. But as quickly as it had disappeared, the fire was back. "Doesn't seem like an unfair question though, considering...everything. I'm sure you ask yourself the same question, don't you?"

"That's uh...a little out of line, Lieutenant." spoke Kaidan for the first time. "Shepard's dealings with Cerberus aren't really important right now."

"So you're just gonna ignore it? Now? When the three of us have to depend on each other's lives? If Cerberus is already on Mars, you do realize that we'd be pretty outnumbered _and_," here, he shot Shepard a cautionary glance, "they have a damn good tactical advantage."

"That's _enough_, Lieutenant." said Kaidan, his voice dangerously low. "When I'm not around, Shepard is in charge. And if you have a problem with her, you stay on the shuttle, and when we get back, you put in for a transfer to another ship. It's as simple as that."

In the past few minutes, Shepard's breathing had quickened as a consequence of these shaky developments. But she was briefly relieved, looked at Kaidan with a large degree of thankful surprise, and he issued a slight nod in her direction.

Vega was quiet for several seconds, and then he raised a hand to his face, wiped it and groaned. "_Man_...I'm sorry. It's just that...look, Shepard, I'm not here to get on your case, okay? It's like I said before. It isn't as cut and dry as it seems."

"What isn't cut and dry, Lieutenant?" asked Shepard.

"I...I'm not angry with _you_." Vega stared out the starboard window. "I don't have a problem with you. I just don't wanna get into it right now, okay?"

She studied Vega – who had gone quiet now – thoughtfully. Upon further reflection, she realized that the tone of his accusations had seemed misdirected somehow, and it was then that she understood that just maybe his temper had little to do with her and a lot more to do with Cerberus. Any other instance, she would have pursued the matter, but these particular splinters ran very deep, and their camaraderie at this point was near-nonexistent. It was obvious that he would have reacted badly if she'd persisted.

She turned her own gaze towards the portside window in an effort to divert her focus from the distressing conversation, and studied trailing wisps of clouds as they entered Mars' atmosphere. Dawn was just beginning to break and the vaporous tendrils shone several shades of bronze. She glanced below the shuttle and noticed that thicker, more ominous clouds – almost a deep blood red in colour – covered the ground, and her thoughts settled on Liara – who she hoped was safely indoors – beneath them.

* * *

Atmospheric descent was shakier than they had anticipated, and the abrupt gusts of wind pummeled the small craft, causing it to shudder and make sudden plummets as it neared the red ground. Cortez was quiet during the entire time, and the three others remained silent too, well aware of the consequences of distraction. He skillfully handled the shuttle, however, and soon as he killed its thrusters and they felt metal touch solid earth, they all breathed a sigh of relief.

They started to move about the limited cabin, gathering weapons and a small stash of supplies.

Kaidan moved towards the cockpit and gave Cortez an approving pat on the back. "Nice work," he said. He looked up through the front window, and his brows knitted together in worry at the sight before him. A massive wave of tumbling clouds curled over one another in the distance, and a shrill wind seeped through the door as Vega opened it, as if to re-emphasize the dangerous potential of what lay ahead. "Should we be worrying about that?" asked Kaidan, nodding in the direction of the atmospheric tidal wave.

"If we don't, then we aren't fit to think," acknowledged Cortez. "Let me check to be sure anyway. Either way, I don't think I'll be able to stay or re-use this LZ. Too exposed. Storm or no."

Kaidan nodded and stepped out of the shuttle with Shepard. Vega remained in the shuttle for a few more minutes as the pair surveyed their surroundings. A high-rise building – partially blocked from view because they stood on lower ground – glinted in the distance away from the oncoming storm. A wide empty valley lay on their right, and a speeding wind unsettled tiny pebbles, giving rise to small plumes of auburn dust about them.

"He was telling the truth, you know," said Kaidan suddenly. His voice sounded metallic and slightly muffled coming out of his helmet.

"What?" asked Shepard.

"Earlier. Vega said he wasn't upset with you. He isn't. It's got something to do with Cerberus. Not exactly sure what – he won't open up to me. But he's dependable as it gets. You don't have to worry about that." explained Kaidan.

"I get it," acknowledged Shepard, "but personal vendettas against anything often have a way of not working out very well."

"You're worried _for_ him?"

"You sound surprised, Kaidan," remarked Shepard, her voice sounded as if she was smiling, but with the helmet on, he couldn't tell.

"Uh...no, not surprised." Privately, however, he was. It was a side to her he hadn't seen since their days of tracking Saren_. Be fair_, he'd chided himself, _you haven't exactly fought alongside her all these years_. "Okay, well, maybe a little. But the kid's a solid fighter. He can hold his own."

"I'm sure he's good," admitted Shepard. "But so was Jenkins."

A beat.

"Jenkins was over-enthusiastic. He was so excited to see some action that he forgot to be careful."

"And this is different – _how?_" questioned Shepard.

Kaidan looked back at the shuttle where Vega was just beginning to emerge from. She was right. The stocky man certainly was dangerous and more than capable, but unfocused...he could very well endanger his own life. And the mere mention of Cerberus always seemed to rattle his core, especially when Vega himself didn't think that others were aware of it.

Kaidan turned back to Shepard. "Should we make an excuse? Tell him to go back and secure another LZ with Cortez?"

"No," said Shepard. "He wants this bad. We tell him to stay put and he'll _know_ that we wanted Cortez to babysit. We play it that way, and he'll be even angrier the next time we run into Cerberus – and I have a feeling that's not very far down the road. Let him come along. Just..._keep an eye on him_."

Kaidan nodded at Shepard just as Vega rejoined them.

Vega, oblivious that he was the recent subject of conversation, spoke, "Shuttle's VI says we only have a couple of hours before the storm hits. Cortez is gonna have to circle, look for some higher ground away from the winds. If the weather gets real nasty, we might have to bunker down in the archives for a while."

"Okay then," said Kaidan, "sooner we finish this, the sooner we can go back."

"Hey Shepard," began Vega, "you think Cerberus are already here?"

Was that a trace of anticipation she had detected, wondered Shepard? "I don't know," she replied. "I certainly hope not."

"Aw, where's the fun in that?" laughed Vega – the sound coming off slightly distorted – whether this was the result of the helmet or because the comment stemmed from a darker and less humourous source, she couldn't tell.

"I just want to find my friend," she declared.

"So do I, Shepard. In fact, I'm even looking to getting re-acquainted with some old friends of my own." Vega gave a few solid pats to his rifle.

_Darker_, decided Shepard. _Definitely darker_.

* * *

The trio walked soundlessly up the incline, trying to conceal themselves behind partial cover which consisted of a few boulders and the sides of miniature eroded canyons. The wind continued to buffet against all it came into contact with, and seemed to pick up in both speed and force. Despite their reluctance of a backwards glance in the oncoming storm's direction, Kaidan and Vega couldn't help but look. Shepard kept her gaze level at what was before her, refusing to acknowledge the oncoming danger behind her.

They snuck up behind a large outcropping of copper rocks, peeking out from behind them. A few vehicles stood parked behind this rear entrance, and there was nobody in sight. Shepard peered through the scope of her sniper rifle, scanning the ATVs for any tell-tale indications that they belonged Cerberus. Then again, she realized, why would they announce their presence? Certainly, they were not as brazen as that.

"Anything?" she said, looking to Kaidan. He stood to her right, tweaking a dial attached to his earpiece, in an attempt to home in on a clear signal.

"Nothing on the CB." he replied with a shake of the head. "You sure she's using the old channel?"

"That's what she told me."

"Something ain't right," muttered Vega.

"I know." said Shepard.

"She should've replied by now." said Kaidan.

"_I know_." But she remained still, uncertain of how to proceed.

"Let's move in," suggested Vega, taking advantage of this hesitation. "I'll scout up ahead."

"_No!_" called Shepard and Kaidan in near-unison.

Vega stopped dead in his tracks. Then, Shepard spoke, fumbling, "What I meant was," she clarified, "Just let me check it out first okay? Stay here."

Vega searched Kaidan for signs of disapproval, but the Major said nothing and allowed for Shepard to proceed.

She moved cautiously up ahead, keeping an eye out for cameras. _Too late for that now_, she noted, as her eyes caught sight of a semi-circular orb situated above the entrance to a doorway. It swiveled slightly in response to her movements. Trying to put aside the implications of this mechanical eye, she tried the door. Surprisingly, it started to give way at her physical insistence. If it was locked before, it certainly wasn't anymore. She beckoned to her counterparts who quickly took their places at her side. A few more seconds, and the trio were inside.

* * *

A well-decorated lobby met them; potted ferns and miniature versions of deciduous trees adorned all corners of the large entrance. Leather sofas and armchairs sat empty, a carboy containing water was partially open – a steady drip of water could be heard – its sound heightened because of complete silence. The polished, paneled flooring cast distorted reflections back up at them as they strolled about. Shepard walked across it towards the empty receptionist's desk. Consoles were lit up with all three primary colours behind it, and they blinked defiantly in punctuated unison – demanding attention.

"Company holiday?" ventured Vega.

Kaidan removed his helmet. "That, or they all just vaporized into thin air."

Another desk, circular in appearance lay at the far end of the room. A large sign that read _Visitor Information_ was situated above it. Carefully organized pamphlets sat stacked up against one another on one side of the desk. Shepard picked one up and examined it.

"Didn't think that Mars was a tourist hotspot," she muttered.

"You'd be surprised." said Vega. "This is where galactic travel was born. I heard that along with the relay, they found some other weird artifacts."

"They put all that stuff on display?" asked Kaidan.

"Apparently so," replied Shepard, unfolding the pamphlet, "under pretty tight lock at key. But accessible to viewers...for a price."

"This place public or privately funded?"

"Private, I think," said Kaidan. "Used to be public at one point. But over time, they lost backers and funding declined. The place had to be purchased to avoid going under. It got sold to the highest bidder, and there weren't many of those."

Shepard was losing interest in the conversation. "Is there a security room nearby?" she asked, putting the pamphlet back with its counterparts.

Vega scanned the lobby for a map of any kind. A wooden plaque stood at one end of the room; it was engraved with a labeled schematic of the building. After studying it for several seconds, he looked back at Shepard over his shoulder. "Nothing about a security room on here. There is a lost-and-found, however – on the fifth floor," he noted.

"Security's bound to be there," discerned Kaidan. He took a deep breath. "Okay. Keep this quick and quiet – and we'll all get out of here in one piece."

* * *

They stepped quietly through the hallways with Kaidan in the lead. Vega took rear point, walking backwards as he checked and re corners for any signs of movement. Shepard remained at their center, casting lingering glances about her – looking for any signs of disturbance. The hallways stood silent, save for the intermittent bursts of air through the vents as the air-conditioners turned on and off. They moved silently forward, until Shepard stopped in her tracks, her gaze snagging on something that demanded immediate attention.

"What is it?" asked Kaidan.

She pointed with the end of her pistol, directing their gaze towards a puckered wall. Concrete marred by the unmistakable signs of bullet holes. She stepped forward carefully, analyzing the scene before her. A picture lay at the base of the wall – its glass frame shattered by a downwards impact. The under-soles of her military boots issued crunching sounds as the fragments further shattered beneath them. She searched for any signs of a wounded body amidst the crumbled plaster and glass, but there was nothing.

"I guess they beat us to it," said Kaidan.

"You sure this is Cerberus?" questioned Vega.

Shepard issued a disbelieving stare in his direction. Vega shrugged in acceptance.

"What do they want with your friend?" he asked.

"The blueprints, I think." answered Shepard. "Maybe more. I don't know."

"Where'd all the staff go?" asked Kaidan.

"Hopefully, somewhere safe," responded Shepard. "Let's move on. We won't learn anything until we study their security cams."

"You think she's okay?" questioned Kaidan – directing the question at Shepard without looking at her.

"She's resourceful," reassured Shepard – more for her own peace of mind than his.

"Here!" called out Kaidan suddenly, and louder than he'd intended. He moved on ahead, opening two solid wooden doors. With deliberate steps, he surveyed the controls and equipment before him.

"We need to keep an eye out," suggested Shepard, "If Cerberus intends to be this careful about betraying their presence, they might be anticipating resistance."

"Right," acknowledged Kaidan. "Vega – you're on sentry duty at the first hallway juncture."

Vega gave him a curt nod and strode away to his post.

Shepard followed behind Kaidan, into a small space lit up by the illuminated glow of holograms and high-res screens. Four empty chairs lay a few feet away from the crowded desk space, and crumbs of stale baked goods lay scattered along the wooden panels and marble floor. Shepard gingerly touched a half-full coffee mug. Her skin perceived the coldness of the porcelain, and she withdrew her hand quickly.

Kaidan stood before all the collated screens, a little overwhelmed by all the real-time feedback. His eyes darted from one screen to another, trying to discern and rule-out the extraordinary from the commonplace. Shepard stepped forward – slightly more proactively – and pushed aside a cup of cold coffee and a half-eaten bagel.

"We're looking for recordings one to four hours before we arrived," she narrated, as her fingers punched several console keys. "Shouldn't be too hard to spot an Asari."

Kaidan's perceptive gaze remained fixed on all six screens before them. Shepard stood next to him, her eyes moving as fast as her thoughts could keep up. Everything here – the desolate hallways, the absence of even one survivor – troubled her greatly. There was evidence of a firefight, but where were the wounded? She tried her CB once more, but her meager reward was only the crackle of static. She moved an index finger to turn off the channel, when Kaidan let out a sudden breath.

"Here," he said – barely audible – and pointed to the top right-hand-side screen.

The video feed provided them with a limited view of a laboratory – sterile and organized – a stark contrast from the room they were standing in now. Two, and then three scientists moved on- and off-screen conducting presumable daily responsibilities. As the feed neared its eight-minute and twenty-second mark, one of the scientists remained stationary for several seconds, placed a hand to support his sudden stagger and then doubled over onto the floor – propped up on his knees. He brought his hands up to his throat and a minute later he collapsed, immobile on the floor as his two colleagues stumbled towards his prostrate form. Soon, they too followed suit, and the video seemed to instantly freeze with this lack of movement – despite the ticking-by of the clock.

"What the hell...?" murmured Shepard.

"I've seen this before." muttered Kaidan. "could be gas, or biotoxins..."

Shepard shook her head. "They don't conduct biological research here – don't see a reason to. Look up there," she pointed to an overhead pipe in the video. Instead of crossing the room, it lay at a slight angle – enough to be out of place.

"What is that? Water pipes?"

"No..." She lifted her gaze upwards. A similar conduit ran into a tightly sealed duct located in the wall above them. "Look up there. Gotta be a way to filter all the excess atmospheric carbon dioxide out. My money's on the possibility that we're looking at a section of an elaborate filtration process. Funneling it all into one giant unit."

"And if they cut it off..." murmured Kaidan, beginning to work it all out...

"...you've got a couple of minutes. At best." Finished Shepard. "But _why?_"

Kaidan maintained his silence, allowing for Shepard's mind to work its way to a similar conclusion. Cerberus was brutal; he had recognized and accepted that long ago. But perhaps, for Shepard – having worked alongside them – this was harder to comprehend. He studied her expression closely.

"They didn't want anyone alive to talk about it," offered Kaidan. "That's the best I got."

A wrenching feeling set into Shepard's gut. "Pull up all the feeds between then and now," she instructed, trying to remain calm.

Seconds later, a static-lined image streamed across a screen. An Asari, hobbled across the video in the span of five seconds.

"There!" pointed Kaidan. He quickly stopped the playback and rewound the short scene. "She's in one of the labs."

"Where the hell is she headed?" asked Shepard.

"Give me a minute." Kaidan pulled up a map of the building on a separate console and studied it intently. "We're in Building 106. If she's passing through the labs, that would mean that she's headed towards the tram-way. Only one way to get access into Building 107 through here."

"What's in Building 107?"

"The archives."

"Why would she go back there? Didn't she say that she already got the schematics from the archives?"

"I...maybe she was headed this way, and her way out was cut off. Maybe she felt it was safer to back-track."

Shepard gave Kaidan an agonized expression. All her vulnerabilities betrayed during one solitary second. In that very instant, he felt as if he'd looked at a deep fear and felt simultaneously intrigued and embarrassed for having done so. And then – out of nowhere – emerged a twinge of jealousy. Had he been in danger, would she have epitomized the same degree of concern? _It's not the same thing_, he told himself. _Liara's your friend too_. _And Shepard's different now. Changed_. In an effort to suppress this involuntary surge of emotions, he reeled back his dominant, calmer persona and took the high road.

He put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "She's resourceful – isn't that what you said?"

* * *

They stepped carefully through another quiet hallway - lined with a string of cubicles, alert and coiled with tension. As they moved forward, more evidence of violent confrontation lay strewn along their path. A wooden desk – cleaved in two, its stiff, pale innards pointing sharply upwards – lay on top of a sheet of broken but not quite shattered glass.

Soon, they walked through a widening foyer that led into a large rotunda. Stalls loudly advertised meals and snacks via the use of colourful signs and eye-catching displays. Wooden benches and tables – some of which still had plates on them lay at its center. At one end of the room they noticed overturned food and drink, that section of the floor was slick with spilt cola and sticky with a mixture of trampled food. But still, no bodies.

They exited the rotunda and found themselves funneled into yet another indoor alley.

Vega kicked aside an overturned plant and came to a sudden stop.

"You hear that?" he asked.

Kaidan and Shepard spun around. It was obvious that Vega had sharper hearing, as it took the pair a few seconds to search and pinpoint a steady _tap-tap_ that came from behind them.

The noise stopped momentarily, but started back up again. "Yeah," murmured Shepard, allowing her ears to lead her towards its source. "It's coming from in here."

She stepped gingerly in front of an inconspicuous door and tried the handle. Finding that there was no lock in place, she moved into a darkened room. Behind her, Kaidan switched on a flashlight attached to his armor. Flecks of golden dust floated peacefully along the beam of light, as it illuminated a cluttered janitor's closet. Several half-full buckets of water – mops still in many of them – lay to the right of some metal shelving.

"I don't hear it anymore," said Vega.

Shepard held up a hand.

A few moments later – _tap-tap_.

"Is it coming from the room behind this one?" asked Kaidan.

"There is no room, remember? We just walked through cubicle space." reminded Vega.

"Maybe someone was hiding beneath desks." suggested Kaidan.

Shepard stepped towards the buckets and mops and moved them aside with her foot. A medium-sized vent – its grill dislodged – lay behind them. The noise had stopped. She bent lower and cautiously set aside the grill as she peered into the tunneled darkness.

A white face gazed back at her.

"_Shit!_" she cried, staggering back a little.

"Don't shoot, please don't shoot!" echoed the voice from within.

"You've got to come out of there," urged Shepard, collecting herself. "We're not here to kill anyone."

"My legs are asleep," murmured the voice, uncertain of what to do.

"Here – would you like us to help?" asked Shepard.

The face managed a slight nod.

Enlisting help from Vega, the pair managed to awkwardly extract the frightened individual. It turned out to be a petite woman, her hair was disheveled and her reddened eyes took in the three well-armed people before her with considerable alarm.

"Please don't shoot me," she repeated.

"No one's shooting anyone," reassured Shepard in a slow, soothing voice. "We're just here to find out what happened."

"Who are you?" asked the woman.

Kaidan stepped forward. Perhaps she'd regain her composure after a few brief introductions. "Alliance Navy. I'm Major Alenko, this is Lieutenant Vega and Commander Shepard." He pointed to his companions in turn before looking back at the woman.

The woman's eyes flicked back and forth from Vega to Shepard, before finally settling on Shepard.

"What happened here?" he urged gently.

"I don't know. We were on our lunch break. Someone came running into the cafeteria, and then I kept hearing some _pop-pop_ noises from outside. They got louder and some men ran in – didn't even recognize the guns in their hands until they started firing into the air."

"They gunned down _everyone_?" asked a bewildered Shepard.

"No. Not then. They kept asking about someone – Teesonay...or something like that. Kept yelling at us to tell them where she was."

"T'Soni? Liara T'Soni?"

"I don't know for sure, but yeah, maybe that was the name."

"What did they want with her?" asked Shepard.

"They had guns in their hands. They weren't there to offer explanations!" cried the woman as she leaned towards distraught once more.

"Is everyone dead? How many armed men were there?" questioned Vega.

"I don't know. They shot a lot of people. It all went quiet after I hid in here, and I wasn't really counting, I was too busy running."

"But where are the bodies?" said Kaidan.

The woman's breathing quickened. "I don't know! Why did they do this? Who are they?"

"Fucking terrorists," growled Vega.

"But we have nothing here worth hiding! I've got to get out of here – are you guys getting out? Can you take me with you?"

Shepard looked at Vega and then Kaidan. "She'd be safer if she stays here."

"_No_," she pleaded in a low undertone, "please don't leave me here. They might come back."

"We're going after them," explained Shepard, "you'd stand a better chance of survival if you stay hidden."

The woman reluctantly hesitated, and after a moment of consideration, she spoke. "Can't I go out? Isn't it safe outside?"

"We don't know that for certain."

Her eyes looked back at them imploring.

"Look," spoke Vega, as he removed a small snub pistol from his holster, "this is the best we can do right now." He handed her the weapon and she cautiously accepted it. She held it in her hands as if it were alien and stared at it for several seconds. Vega continued. "They're both right. We need to track the men who did this to you, but with us – you stand little chance of coming out of this intact. I promise that when this is all over, we'll send someone back for you. And we promise to make Cerberus pay."

Shepard scrutinized Vega's face, and gave him a look that seemed to say _don't make promises you can't keep_.

"Cerberus?" piped the woman, distracting them. "Is that who did this? _Oh God_. I thought it was Blue Suns. Eclipse even. Not Cerberus."

"We've got to move," said Shepard with impatient urgency. "She might not have much time."

"Are you looking for this T'Soni too? Who is she?"

Shepard didn't answer.

"Lock this door after we leave," advised Kaidan. "And remember that your chances of survival just improved – especially if you think of the situation you were in minute ago. But you need to stay hidden and quiet. We'll send someone back for you, okay?"

The woman held the cold gun in her right hand – and it dangled listlessly by her side. She could do nothing but nod.

* * *

"You're all thinking the same thing I am," spoke Vega – his voice piercing the silence, "so you might as well 'fess up now."

Kaidan gave him a perplexed expression.

"Come on, look around you. Where the hell are the bodies? More than one person fired more than one weapon. Where the hell are the wounded?"

Shepard remained silent.

"Maybe they hid the bodies." conjectured Kaidan.

Vega snorted in derision, but he decided to humor his senior officer. "Okay. Say that they did. But where? More importantly – _why?_"

"This has got nothing to do with the Collectors," said Shepard finally.

Realization dawned on Kaidan's face. It made sense, but only partially. On Horizon, he'd seen the swarms. Hell, he'd even seen a few of the Collectors – while he was immobilized – and watched them take many of the colonists away. But the Collectors had left behind evidence – cocoons, dead husks. This place betrayed the complete opposite.

"Humans have disappeared," Vega began to elaborate, "When was the last time that happened? And who was responsible?"

Shepard shook her head. "Cerberus won't work with the Collectors. I don't see that happening. They want to be alpha male, and the way they see it, the other species are just in the way. They're a bunch of powerful xenophobes."

"Well, maybe something happened to change all that."

Despite Vega's insistence on this being possible, she found it very difficult to fathom. The Collectors pissed off one of the most influential human beings in the galaxy in more ways than one. The Illusive Man was a cool and cunning strategist, and he neither forgave nor forgot. After taking down the Collector base, he had doubled intelligence efforts to avoid any retaliation on the part of the Collectors. He might have leveled the playing field, but that gave him even more reason to be cautious.

"I'm not buying it," she repeated. "Your theory is too out-there – even for Cerberus."

Vega sighed. "Well...let's just call it when we see it then, okay? I got fifty bucks riding on the Collectors." He stuck his hand out in Shepard's direction.

She accepted it with a grudging smile. "Deal."

* * *

The research wing echoed with the same eerie silence as the traversed passages they'd been witness to. But this time, Shepard's movements were salient, betraying her heightened anxiety. She threw open laboratory entrances, doors of which seemed to have been sealed tight but were now unlocked. She strode in with little thought for hidden assailants. She scanned floors and obvious hiding spaces quickly before moving onto subsequent labs.

Kaidan followed behind her nervously, attempting to survey corners she had missed while Vega maintained rear guard.

She approached the fourth lab as if were unlocked, but stopped dead as the door handle refused to turn. She jiggled it repeatedly, but to no avail.

"This one's locked," remarked Vega as he caught side of a panel, lit up with a single red light.

"She could be in here," said Shepard.

Kaidan peered through a thick window of durable glass. The entire room depended on a solitary fluorescent light for illumination.

"She's not here," he muttered.

Shepard spun around. "You don't know that."

He nodded towards the room. Staring in, she saw pair of legs sticking out from behind a white island that seemed to support technical equipment. Her eyes followed an arbitrary path until they fell onto another lifeless body – this one lying face up.

"The scientists from the security feed..." she murmured. "She wasn't with them...was she?"

"I don't think so," replied Kaidan.

Vega, who stood behind them all this while, moved past them and paused. His body was tense; his entire attitude was a listening one. He looked back at them and brought a finger to his lips. He walked softly towards intersecting corridors, pressed his back up against a corner wall, and looked out from behind it.

Four well-armed men stood in front of a lab. Vega was discreetly out of their peripheral vision, and this gave him ample time to absorb as much detail as he could. Two had slung their weapons over their shoulders, which in turn were low and relaxed. The other seemed restless; shifting from one foot to another. Someone issued an indiscernible phrase which caused his companion to move towards the lab window. He gazed through it for about half a minute and then shook his head before stepping back to rejoin the group. He held something rectangular between thumb and forefinger. He handed it to his companion.

Vega pulled his head back into cover. "Give me some covering fire and I can take them."

"Wait – _what?_" whispered Kaidan in hoarse surprise.

"How many?" shot Shepard.

Vega held four fingers up.

"What're they doing?"

"Waiting."

"For what?"

Vega shook his head. He did not know. "I can find out for you if you like," he asked as his index finger moved precariously towards the trigger of his rifle.

"You're not to open fire until ordered to. You got that?" asserted Kaidan.

Vega nodded grudgingly.

Shepard moved towards the corner wall and assessed the situation for herself. "There's another junction up ahead. See that hallway across from us? I bet it runs through a parallel corridor. One of us can flank them."

"Flank them?" said Vega, incredulous. "Three against four dumbass Cerberus grunts! We can take them without breaking a sweat!"

"What if one of them escapes? Runs back to the pack?" Shepard said fiercely. "We need information – we need one of them alive. _Think_, Vega!"

The younger man tightened his jaw. "Fine. Okay."

Kaidan gave Vega an uncertain glance. And then, thinking quickly, "Alright. Shepard – you go around. Hold your fire. We don't want to bring more of them into the picture. Find some way to distract them – and we'll come up from behind."

She snuck off silently, and disappeared from view for a few minutes. Kaidan risked a few cautious glances in the direction of the four men. They still milled about in front of the lab waiting for something. For what, he didn't know.

A metal cart wheeled itself from a hidden juncture and into view. All four men started at the sound of wheels scraping against tile. With little forethought, they moved towards the source of disturbance.

"Come on, come on!" whispered Kaidan as he and Vega moved up behind the unsuspecting soldiers. Vega had his sights pinned on the rear-most man, but at the last minute, he spun around and fired in Vega's direction. The burst was poorly aimed, and Vega leaned awkwardly away from the shot.

"_Behind!_" cried one of the men.

The three men simultaneously turned around sharply and pressed firm fingers on their triggers together with their counterpart, allowing for a volley of fire to spurt out from their barrels.

Shepard – her face dark and determined – emerged from cover and crossed quickly to the center of corridor with large strides. She slammed the butt of her rifle hard into the first Cerberus soldier in front of her. Before the second could acknowledge this take-down, a heavily armored elbow struck a powerful blow to his cheekbone. Shepard heard a muffled crunch and saw something move out of the corner of her eye. She ducked to avoid a potentially lethal blow to her own head. She swung her right foot in a sweeping motion, knocking the man's legs out from under him. He crashed to the floor just as Vega enveloped him with a choke hold.

Shepard looked around for the fourth man and took in his prostrate form lying a few feet away from them. His eyes were open and unseeing.

"Everyone okay?" panted Kaidan, surveying his own companions. Vega – who'd been holding down his opponent – relaxed and straightened as the unconscious man slumped over onto the cold floor. Vega massaged his left shoulder; testing it for any injuries.

"Vega – you shot?" asked Kaidan.

"No. I'm alright."

Kaidan and Vega began to disarm their unconscious adversaries and tie them down. The process of reviving them for the purpose of interrogation would take a while.

Shepard stepped out from Kaidan's view and towards the lab. She stood frozen in place. From behind, Kaidan quickly noticed this statuesque transition and watched in curious dread as she lunged towards the glass with the rear end of her rifle raised in the air. She brought it down with a powerful blow. The glass stood resolute and unyielding. She raised it again.

And brought it down hard.

With each strike and each unsuccessful result, she screamed. The noise was pained, angry, desperate.

Kaidan ran up towards the pane. His heart sank as he saw a familiar figure leaning back against a desk. Her head was slumped forward, arms inanimate at her sides – legs apart in front of her.

"Door's sealed – windows are shatter-proof," muttered Kaidan in an emotionless monotone. He was in shock. Seeing her lifeless like that...to take it all in at once...

Shepard brushed past him and looked along the wall. She harshly brushed something across her cheek and blinked her eyes repeatedly, determined not to lose it. "Security panel!" she croaked. "There's got to be one!"

Vega scrambled to help. "Found it!" he called out.

Shepard rushed to his side. "Short the damned thing!"

"I can do better," said Vega raising his weapon to shoot at the device.

Kaidan stretched out his hand quickly, pushing down Vega's rifle deliberately. "_No!_ Damage that and we might never be able to get it open."

Vega pivoted on his feet and ran towards the inert figures that lay slumped along the wall behind them. Spurred on by a memory and idea, he urgently searched each person, pushing listless limbs aside, frantic.

"Pass card," he cried. "I saw one of them with it!" He bent down looking among the debris from the recent firefight. A small, innocuous object jutted out from underneath some dislodged rubble. Vega snatched it up and quickly handed it to Shepard.

She moved towards the panel, feeling as if events were unfolding too sluggishly, as if everything was conspiring against her.

Red swiftly turned green, and a soft hiss issued from behind the door. A rush of air moved past them and into the room as she opened the door.

"_Liara!_" shouted Shepard running forward. She fell at her friend's side. She raised the Asari's chin gently and with dread. A transparent breather mask covered her nose and the lower half of her face. Her heart beating wildly with renewed hope, Shepard shook Liara's face.

Nothing.

"Kaidan..." implored Shepard.

"The mask bought her time." answered Kaidan, kneeling on the other side of the Asari. "She might still be okay." He began to take Liara's pulse.

Shepard hung her head closer to Liara's – teetering between hope and despondency. She pressed her forehead up against the Asari's. Then suddenly, the tiniest of movements emerged from her form. It was so slight so as to be barely discernible. Shepard wondered if she'd imagined it. And then, a larger and unmistakable jerk.

Shepard held her breath.

Liara's eyelids fluttered open and soon as she had done so, she began to cough while simultaneously inhaling large volumes of previously withheld air.

Shepard held her upright – one arm supporting her back – the other tightly holding onto Liara's hand. Shepard looked up at Kaidan and gave him a broad smile.

Liara muttered something and gave Shepard a weak grin. She leaned in to hear her friend better.

"_Therum_..." said Liara in a hoarse whisper. "Therum all over again. You have impeccable timing, Shepard."

Shepard sat back in relief and started to laugh.


	5. Chapter 5

Shepard motioned to Vega – one arm supporting Liara's unsteady form onto her feet. Shepard's eyes swept from Liara to the door and that was all it took for Vega to recognize that she wanted him to escort the newest member of their company back to the shuttle. But the subtle instruction did not escape the Asari's notice.

"Oh, no, no, no..." Liara shook her head as she staggered forward.

"Yes, yes, yes," said Shepard, countering Liara's refusal to leave in a slightly playful tone. And then, more seriously, "You are in no condition to fight and this isn't the time to argue."

"...said the pot to the kettle," was Liara's response. She stood up a little straighter; her shoulder's back and leveled. Asserting herself with a steady gaze into Shepard's own eyes, "It's just a moderate case of pins and needles. And you three are going to need all the help you can get."

"Pins and needles – _my ass_," Shepard raised her voice a degree, "did you honestly think you could single-handedly hold out against Cerberus? And you came down here _alone!_"

Vega watched the back and forth banter with cautious amusement. He only had the balls to mirror that kind of verbal retaliation with close friends – people whose boundaries he had tested repeatedly. He half-expected Liara to make an antagonistic comeback, but instead, her face softened into a smile.

"Give me a little credit, Shepard. You think I didn't take any precautions? I've already sent out a distress signal – the Mars Medical Naval Base. I recognize that they're more than a few clicks away, but they got here eventually."

"No one came, Liara. Or at least, not that I'm aware of." Shepard spoke slowly but concisely – allowing for the words to sink in. "Cerberus probably scrambled the signal."

Liara looked away with thoughtful alarm. "What about the other people here? The staff?"

"Dead or missing," Kaidan spoke up for the first time in a while. He stood in the doorway, monitoring the corridor outside for any signs of activity. He stepped out for a minute and returned with a radio he'd repurposed from their unconscious and bound opponents.

A few seconds later, the radio crackled to life.

" – _half of it is missing. I'm uploading the rest right now._" The voice, tinny due its small source, was female. It sounded distant – as if the radio had picked up dialog from several feet away, but there was no denying the authoritative inflections it shouldered. The subsequent directions only served to strengthen this assessment. "_Do you think we can manage quick and quiet?_" Her tone had grown tauntingly sarcastic._ "Granted, it might be a little late in the day for __**that**__, but it shouldn't be a problem as long as this __**jackass**__ here can keep his fingers off the goddamned trigger._" And then, the voice diminished, moving farther away. Eventually it disappeared entirely, replaced by the sounds of movement and chunks of monosyllabic conversation.

Kaidan Alenko and his three companions continued to listen in rapt attention until they were certain that nothing more could be gleaned from the radio chatter. He left the device on, ensuring that transmission would be uni-directional.

"That's her," said Liara, her eyes widened slightly in recognition.

"Who?" asked Kaidan.

"Doctor Eva Core. From what I gathered, she was a recent transfer – a visiting lecturer purporting the dangers of kinetic barriers and over-reliance on them. Some mundane, re-hashed gibberish. Anyway," Liara shook her head, with self-acknowledgment that she was veering off-topic, "it was all a ruse. Got her clearance and access into some of the buildings here."

"_Doctor Eva Core?_" repeated Vega, a dubious grin setting in. "Sounds like she did her time in a bad porno."

Liara, Shepard and Kaidan threw involuntary pointed stares his way.

Suddenly self-conscious, "Oh. Wow. Did I say that out loud?"

"She was Cerberus, I take it?" asked Kaidan, managing pull his gaze away from Vega, and re-directed the conversation back on course. "I mean, Cerberus must've pulled a couple strings back-stage to put her into play here."

"Yes. I don't know much else about her but I do know that if she manages to download the rest of the schematics things won't bode well for us. We need to get moving." Liara bent down to pick up her pistol which had fallen several feet away and moved forward. "Come on. Walk and talk."

* * *

There was only one route towards the tramway and thereby the archives. The passed through sections of charred rooms and passageways; walls scored with unmistakable signs of bullet holes. Turning around the corner, it took a few seconds for their eyes to adjust to absence of lighting. This particular stretch of endless corridor was punctuated by small, breakout fires – in between lay patches of darkness, to which the flames did not extend. The toe of Liara's boot struck against a sizeable chunk of rubble, and she quietly kicked it aside. They carefully avoided stepping into similar fragments of disassembled landscape, and slowly but surely made their way through.

"Pillage and burn..." muttered Shepard.

Kaidan watched in silence as scorching orange tendrils consumed a thick leaf from a fallen plant. Green slowly vanished into black, and its ashes wafted higher as the rest of its foliage continued to be devoured. A simmering anger welled up in his chest as he looked about him. This destruction, callous disregard of life...Cerberus was responsible for all of it. Not just here on Mars, but elsewhere in the galaxy too. Everything they came into contact with – everything that had lived past its usefulness – cast aside, marred, ruined.

He bit his lip and glanced at Shepard. Then Liara. _Doesn't she wonder_, he thought? _Hadn't it even crossed her mind?_ Why wasn't Liara contemplating Shepard through the same lens? _She rescued her, not me. __**She**__ did._ Brought her back from the dead – may have paid a heavy price for it teaming up with Cerberus like she did – but she had enabled life from death. He had played no part in that.

Kaidan averted his eyes, with concurrent irritation and guilt.

"I deleted part of the schematics on my OSD. It seemed the only choice at the time." Liara's voice suddenly permeated their soft footfalls and the sporadic crackling of fire. "Made the mistake of trying to make it back to the archives once I knew that Cerberus was here, and then realized I was running out of options."

"Didn't you try to upload the data to a remote device?" asked Vega.

Liara shook her head. "Didn't want to take the chance of the upload being intercepted. Like I said – I was running out of options. Before Cerberus got here, I attempted to delete the blueprints stored in the archives, but there were too many firewalls for that kind of access and not enough time. The next best thing was to _make_ Cerberus think I'd deleted it. There's an encryption program that I managed to activate that generated the necessary effect."

Shepard smiled in the muted glow of the flames. _Clever,_ her grin seemed to read.

Liara continued. "I thought it might buy me some time. The archives would be the first place they'd hit. They covered all their bases, though. Sent one group after me while the second team worked on the download. It took them less time to find me than to break through all that encryption."

"How'd you end up in the labs?" inquired Shepard.

Liara looked sheepish. "I panicked. I've been in hairy situations – some even worse than this one – but I...I felt out of my depth. How did they know I was here? How did they know I was the one who'd taken the data?" Her voice broke a fraction; perturbed. "They had all the exits covered, and I – being the idiot that I am – didn't have an escape route planned. I just leapt into this head-first."

"What kind of idiot has the forethought to deceive Cerberus with what you did back in the archives? I'd have taken the data and split – that's it. Wouldn't have given much thought on stalling for time. And it wouldn't have even occurred to me to delete the info on the OSD." Shepard shook her head, denying Liara's admission, "That was some quick thinking, Liara. The three of us together may not have been able to pull it off."

The Asari was grateful that none of them could see her cheeks flush a deep blue hue at Shepard's praise. She muttered an incoherent phrase of modest dismissal.

"But how long before they complete the download?" voiced Vega, bringing to the surface a question that begged to be asked.

"I don't know," admitted Liara. "It depends on how fast their tech can break through the system's firewalls and the deletion simulator I've put in place."

"So...hypothetically speaking, they could have already downloaded the data and are getting ready to move out?"

They instinctively looked towards the com that Kaidan had attached to his wrist as if a voice at the other end would provide an answer for them. But a silence met their ears, prolonging their sense of urgency.

Shepard loosened her taut shoulders and flexed the muscles in her hand before they renewed their grip on her assault rifle. "Better move fast then."

* * *

The storm front had decided to become better acquainted with exposed tunnels and alleyways that connected the main facility to the archives. It harshly struck and coiled past all surfaces, leaving nothing lacking in its touch – even that of the four armoured companions – who stood just outside the tramway. Each of them had to plant their feet firmly apart and in place, to avoid being considerably shaken by the abrupt gusts of winds. They assessed their disturbing environment in silence, as Kaidan listened to a hoarse Cortez over the comm channel.

As soon as their conversation had ended, "The brunt of it hasn't even hit us yet," he informed the others.

"This day just keeps getting better and better..." noted Vega, his frown hidden behind the darkened visor of his helmet. He pointed in the direction of the aerial trams with his rifle, or rather, the lack thereof. "Storm's coming in and we're short on sky-cars. What are we supposed to do? Monkey our way across?"

Liara stepped towards a panel adjacent to the tramway. With a few deft hits of her fingers, an orange terminal sprung to life. A few more soft strikes and a loud ping sounded about them, followed by an automated voice. _A passenger car is inbound – please stand clear of the sides_.

"Monkeying will not be necessary today," she issued dryly.

Up ahead in the distance, Shepard could make out a vague outline of mechanical bulk. Its angular frame broke through churning wisps of unsettled auburn cloud as it neared the small party. There was something amiss with the entire picture, elements cloaked as everyday minutiae – elements that triggered in her feelings of unease. She could hear metal groaning as it withstood significant pressure, and then realized the sound didn't stem from the perpetual buffeting of the wind. Squinting through her visor, the minutiae further revealed themselves. The car lay tilted at a slight angle, its clamp on the cable generating bright hot sparks as it grinded their way.

_Over-capacity_, she recognized.

"Take cover!" she yelled as near-genetic survival skills assumed control. She dove behind the nearest column. "Car's not empty!"

Almost as soon as they had ducked behind whatever cover their environment could provide, a barrage of fire blasted its way through the tram's opening doors. The four companions had been taken quite by surprise, and lay pinned in place. Kaidan was safeguarded by the doors they had come through minutes ago, Vega had sidled along metal crates stacked atop one another, and Liara had flattened herself against the floor – her rudimentary cover being only a few feet high.

Shepard peered around the narrow column, only to have several well-aimed mass accelerator slugs whiz by her. She instantly pulled her head back. From her angle, she could only see Vega, and silently gestured for his attention. She held her weapon in one hand, and signaled for him to move up past the crates and out of their enemy's line of sight while she provided cover fire. Perhaps the weather would work in their favour after all.

Vega lowered himself to the floor and went prone – propelling himself forward on hands and knees around the piled containers. Shepard returned a volley of suppressing fire, and as Vega disappeared from her peripheral vision, she couldn't help but wonder if Cerberus was thinking along parallel tactical lines. Almost in response to this contemplation, a Cerberus grunt emerged from the hazy amalgam of angry storm and dust beside her. Before she had time to think, his person went limp – felled to the ground by a well-aimed slug.

Liara's crouched form manifested through the red smog. Shepard had a fleeting moment to issue a silent expression of thankfulness for her friend's quick reflexes – the look masked beneath her helmet, before another deafening torrent of gunfire roared about her.

_Deafening because of proximity_, she realized.

How many of them were there? And where was Vega?

Caution be damned – someone had to take control of the situation.

Deciding that her shields could take the pummeling of temporary gunfire, Shepard recognized that a quick roll from her current location towards a wider wall-like column would gift her with a better position with which to assess their predicament and hopefully provide better covering fire.

She took the plunge...and so did her armor. A dreaded and distinct crackle emanated from her suit – the kinetic barrier had been broken; the result of several rounds of armor-piercing ammunition. On the upside, she was now behind safer cover, a brief respite that allowed for her shields to regenerate. In the time that it took for them to replenish, she saw a familiar form several yards from her position.

He was still prone, making his way forward and undetected towards six Cerberus soldiers. Shepard grudgingly realized that their opponents had the tactical advantage – they were nestled in between solid metal crates and an empty food kiosk, and the two foremost soldiers wielded imposing riot shields before them.

_And those are only the six that we can see_, Shepard knew. As solid a fighter as Vega appeared, she could not instruct him to take them on. Even their help may be short-lived – their aid heavily dependent on carefully-timed maneuverings. Maneuverings they could not plan because of what she couldn't see. She turned her gaze in Kaidan's direction, hoping that he would have a better angle.

But in the blink of an eye, her attention was redirected just in time to see Vega abandon a stealthy position for an upright one. It triggered one too many bad memories.

It was Jenkins and not Jenkins. There was recklessness about him but something darker as well. There was gung-ho and a more malevolent earnestness to his movement. The scene unfolded slowly and uncertainly; he rose, slightly crouched. The rifle was pulled up to shoulder height, its barrel at a forty-five degree angle. It was as if the weapon orchestrated Vega, animating him. A few shots sputtered from its snout, and pressured steam or smoke spurted from an unknown location onto the group of cloistered soldiers. He had hit a pressurized fire extinguisher. Vega then charged through plumes of smoke, storm and dust.

"_What the hell is he doing_?" came a voice from within Shepard's helmet. It was Kaidan.

Shepard watched, breathless, unable to reply.

Seconds ticked by. Gone were the muffled sounds of gunfire.

"I'm going to have to take a look," she said finally. "Cover me?"

"As best I can." replied Kaidan.

Muscles taut and prepared to uncoil at any sign of a threat, she stepped forward, moving one hand before her in a futile attempt to clear any remaining smoke. Looking to her right, she caught sight of limp body – its limbs splayed at impossible angles. A Cerberus emblem engraved onto the breastplate armor allowed for a release of breath on her part. She moved on. As she grew closer, she saw him, his silhouette leaning against something, head bent forward, rifle hanging by his side. Another step and she noticed the slight quivering of his shoulders.

"Vega?" she called, her voice low.

There was no response.

"_James,_" two more steps and she was able to place a tentative hand on his shoulder.

He turned, his masked face aimed in her direction. "D'you see it? Did you see me?" he asked.

Shepard looked about her – surveying the felled bodies. All six of them. It had happened so fast, and through the emergence of a partial smile, she realized that she was sorry to have missed seeing Vega in action. Whatever he had accomplished, he had done so swiftly.

He was no Jenkins.

* * *

The sky-tram chugged its way forward; its occupants holding onto railings above and beside them.

"I had a clean bead on all but two of them," began Kaidan, his voice taut – but hadn't conceded to a full-fledge release of emotion. "You could've gotten yourself killed."

Liara, positioned across from Shepard in the car, glanced up the Commander. Shepard tilted her head slightly and then looked back down, feigning an intense interest in her combat boots.

"Yeah, but I didn't." said Vega.

And the minute the response emerged from the young lieutenant's mouth, Shepard winced. _Shoulda bit that one back_, she thought.

"Since when are you in the habit of issuing your own commands?" voiced Kaidan, his voice low, dangerous.

_Shut up, shut up_, thought Shepard to herself. _You're going to cut yourself either way, Lieutenant. Take this beating lying down_. Kaidan wasn't known for his belligerence. He would never be immortalized for his temper; rather then, for his control of it. It was this mastery of emotion that had the potential to snare an unwary opponent. It put them off guard. And whether from instinct or from more exposure to the Major's temperament, Shepard recognized that Lieutenant was wading through dangerous waters. She glanced briefly at Liara. The Asari's silence betrayed a similar recognition.

"I..." started Vega as both Shepard and Liara held their breath, "I'm sorry, Sir. Won't happen again."

Shepard exhaled.

Kaidan moved a foot closer to his subordinate. "I'm not into the habit of losing people under my command. You want to get yourself killed – sign up with another squad. You stay with me, you'd better damn well follow my orders. Is that clear, Lieutenant?"

"Crystal. Sir."

Kaidan stood still, his gaze set on Vega for the better half of a minute, as if he had trouble believing the younger man. He finally averted his attention, acknowledging his other companions.

"How much longer to the archives?" he asked.

"Not long." replied Liara.

* * *

The room was immensely large; a rotunda of sorts. Its ceilings tapered upwards, reaching an apex that towered above them. It was a remarkable room really, realized Kaidan. Then he, Vega and Shepard swept unseen shadowy corners as best as they could until an all-clear was sounded.

The architecture within was a subtle blend of technology and decorative influence from the mid-2100s – when the Prothean relay was first discovered. Partway to its center lay a hologram of the fragmented relay. Its assembly played out via accelerated footage; displaying the hundreds of scientists and workers required for its proper function. The finale exhibited the finished structure, in all its glory; elegantly spinning circles, flanked by sturdy tapered ends...rotating faster and faster as the image of a ship neared its center. Then, with a flash of simulated light, the ship swept forward into the relay's interior, and disappeared from sight. It took Kaidan several moments to tear his eyes away. It was the Asari that drew his attention.

Liara ventured forward towards an active console, holographic data whirring by before her.

"They broke past the simulator..." her voice fell.

Shepard, still scanning the massive environment for any signs of hostile movement, backed up towards the Asari. "And the data...?"

"Downloaded." She sounded hoarse.

"Cerberus?"

Liara didn't answer. She stepped forward, mind and body engrossed in moving information about. She swept packets of data aside with her hands, trying to locate a source, a link...something that would contain any indication of where the data had been transmitted.

"_Shepard_."

All four companions spun around to the source, but only one adjusted her stance, cautious, tense and with considerable reluctance at admitting recognition.

_Illusive Man_.

"_You've interfered with my plans on more than one occasion...this is becoming a bit of a habit, wouldn't you say?_"

Shepard stared at the three-dimensional rendition; a little a loss for words. She lowered her weapon. Blue tendrils of smoke emerged from the four-foot high image as the Illusive man pulled the cigarette from his lips.

"_But...on both occasions, try as you might, you haven't exactly stopped me from getting what I want_." He smiled a knowing smile. "_What would you infer from that?_"

"Both occasions...?" whispered Kaidan, glancing in Shepard's direction. But she paid no heed to her companion. Her eyes remained glued to the image before her.

"I'm not here to stop you. And you know that." she began. "I'm here to put an end to the Reapers. As for why you're here..." Shepard paused momentarily, "I thought we were on the same side. But then you tried to kill my friend. You're going to have to understand why I'm a little..._confused_."

"_I don't have to explain myself to you_," snapped the Illusive Man, exposing a raw side to his temper briefly. An in the next instant, the suave effortlessness with which he spoke returned – it was as if it never disappeared. "_Keep in mind, Shepard, that we needed your help just as much as you needed ours. You were a credit to Cerberus, until you decided to show us your coattails and return to an institution which prides itself on never getting anything done. After everything Cerberus has done for you, I'm having problems with your personal definition of gratitude._"

"It's like you said when we first met. The minute I didn't like how Cerberus does things, we could part ways. But we're not here to discuss who betrayed who, are we?"

Something was wrong. This was more than mere indulgence in word-sparring. He was stalling. Shepard moved away from the cerulean image, and walked behind Liara. In the briefest of moments and hidden from the Illusive Man's line of sight, she whispered quickly into the ear of her friend..._buying time, run a trace – his agents haven't left Mars yet_. And then Shepard was back in view of the Illusive Man. "Look, you can't have it both ways. Defeat the Reapers _and_ have humanity reach its zenith? How many races are you really planning on screwing over before they all bite you in the ass? The next few moments are going to determine whether you make an enemy out of me as well."

"_Just what exactly are you asking me for, Shepard?_"

"You already know. Your assets. Your resources. I'm not asking you to relinquish control. But I am asking for your cooperation. You're one of the few who know of the existence of the Reapers. You can help us stop them." Shepard studied him carefully, hoping that the earnestness of the plea carried through to its recipient.

"_Help you help the Alliance?_" He shook his head. _"Pointless now. The Reapers are well on their way. And your Alliance has got their head stuck so far up their proverbial derrieres searching for their own traitors...ah, but you should know. How'd you dodge your own inquisition?_"

"That's irrelevant."

"_No, actually – quite the opposite. You're a witness to the inner workings, Shepard. Slogged in masses of paperwork. Reams, in fact. All the evidence you've brought forward, and they insist on perpetuating the lie that the Repears don't exist_. _A lie that would involve having you locked up. Silenced_."

"It's human nature," countered Shepard, half-believing the excuse she'd permitted the Alliance and their allies.

"_I'm human_," smiled the Illusive Man, "_and I hope you'll forgive me if I say that it's all bullshit_."

"Help us then. Work with me."

He chuckled, the action unexpected on Shepard's part. "_Work with you? Work __**with**__ you?_" he repeated. "_But you don't play well with others, Shepard! As you've clearly demonstrated. And as I'm sure you will demonstrate to the rest of your crew_..." at this, he looked pointedly at Kaidan and Vega. "_Did she tell you, I wonder, how she made one of the most loyal under my employ betray me_?"

She did not take kindly to this diversion. "Either you're with us...or against us. Make or break." said Shepard slowly. "Now what's it going to be?"

The Illusive man drew in the chemicals within his cigarette, and took a step back, confident. "_I'm not going to warn you again, Shepard. __**Stay out of our way**_. _Or this won't go so well for you_."

Liara – who all along had been off to the side – neared Shepard. "All Cerberus shuttles have left Mars. Except for one. Cortez says that it's waiting for one more pick-up." she whispered.

"Is that..." breathed Shepard to the Illusive Man, "your final word?"

The image grinned – the expression amplified by the intensity of the situation – and then the feed was cut.

Shepard stood still momentarily and then spun around to face Liara. "Storm?"

"We're at its center. Calm. If we're going to make a break for it, it should be now."

"Who's the last pick-up?"

"Cortez can't tell us. But if I were to guess, all bets would be on the good doctor."

"Who?" asked Vega, "the one from the bad porno?"

"The very same," replied Liara, her tone grim. "We may not stop Cerberus from collating the information, but maybe we can put one of their agents out of play."

"You heard Liara. Let's move." said Shepard.

* * *

"How the hell," panted Kaidan as his booted feet pounded the rooftop concrete, "is she able to keep up?"

In the distance, the figure of Shepard pursued a fleeing woman. Doctor Eva Core. Shepard effortlessly sidled over obstacles that enabled breathlessness in her companions, and it wasn't long before she morphed into a miniature silhouette before them.

"Cortez!" called out Kaidan into his helmet's earpiece, recognizing that the situation had the growing potential to spiral out of their control. "You're going to have to cut her off!"

A crackle of static.

"_What?_"

"Shepard's ahead of us – she's after a Cerberus agent – cut her off!"

A long spell of silence ensued. He couldn't be sure if he'd gotten through to their pilot or not. Vega ran alongside him, every now and then pointing his rifle ahead into the distance – in an attempt to get their adversary in his crosshairs. The frustrated manner in which Vega lowered his weapon led Kaidan to believe than the lieutenant was consistently unsuccessful. Liara kept up with the pair, her alarm and concern more evident as her expression lay unconcealed because of her transparent rebreather mask.

"If we can't seal off a perimeter..." muttered Kaidan, his thought left unfinished as a speck in the distance – growing larger by the second came hurtling into view.

The now-defined Kodiak shuttle had managed to fragment the group somewhat; the vehicle's front unsettled rooftop-attachments, sending them hurtling between Kaidan and his two compatriots beside him, before the shuttle pinned Doctor Core from her escape route. Debris lay smoking amidst the chaos, and it was then that Shepard got a thorough look at her adversary.

There was something amiss about the woman. Perhaps it was the way her hair said rigid above her shoulders despite a windy environment, or perhaps it was the way the light glinted off her attire, but whatever the case – it all grew irrelevant as the figure stared menacingly between the now-stationary shuttle and her way out. Which was, noted Shepard with wary irony, in her direction.

Shepard breathed heavily, assuming an assertive stance, before Kaidan stepped within her peripheral vision – running flat out for the woman.

It was evident that he wanted her taken down.

_No, Kaidan_! She cried out without voice.

But the woman had him pinned before she could act. With a strength that Shepard knew she could not match, the woman shot an arm out, fingers eagerly grasping around the Major's throat. She dangled the man effortlessly from the ground and threw him up against the sides of the shuttle. She looked over at Shepard, the expression a combination of derisive mockery, and then slammed Kaidan's form into the metal hull.

One, two.

One, two, three times.

The hull caved in with the impact.

Shepard fired, index finger now permanently glued to the trigger, hoping that it would all be over soon.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N (11/25/12): **Another declaration of gratitude to Calamitous Serendipity and Theodur for taking the time and effort to read and review. Knowing that you guys actually read, let alone enjoy, this story is like my jet fuel to keep it going. I do not kid. Both of you have clear insight into what needs improvement, what works and what you believe most readers would like to see. (Speaking of which, am still on the fence as to the inclusion of the fembot. I agree that she is central to the biological vs synthetic debate in the Mass Effect universe, and if EDI does employ this form, not sure whether to make her Joker's love interest. Their possible romantic relationship might also be crucial, but do you believe it added to the story? Thoughts?)

Since this story will deviate from canon to a certain extent, there will be disagreements between my interpretation and the original. I do delve a little into Vega's history, and have altered certain aspects of it.

Also, a friend of mine asked me why I do not elaborate on Shepard's appearance. I've rectified that slightly, but a proper physical description will be deliberately avoided. Basically, I want readers who've played with their FemShep to imagine her as they did their own.

Again, thanks so much for reading, guys.

P.S. You guys ought to check out Theodur's work too - Rhapsody in Blue. Beautiful writing with lots of character development. I love character development.

P.P.S. I do not know my Spanish - there is one line in this chapter in Spanish, and I can't be certain that it's right. Please correct me if I am wrong.

* * *

**Chapter 6**

The solitary figure remained slouched next to the prostate one in the Normandy's med-bay. From time to time, she would raise her head a fraction of an inch to search for movement amidst the bruised and swollen patches of flesh that newly constituted an old, familiar form. But aside from the continuous – if not, irregular – heaving of his ribcage, very little satisfied her. The respirator located behind his narrow bed clicked rhythmically in response to his breathing; the accordion-like instrument contracting and expanding to help him along. A heart rate monitor chimed in with intermittent electronic beeps. A voice within urged her to grasp his hand and speak words of solace, but the voice was not her own and she could not bring herself to play the role of comforting companion.

Fingers interlaced and resting between her knees, she noticed an irritating yet familiar tremor that ran across her palms and extended through her digits. Sheer determination would not kill the involuntary movement, but she knew what would. With a lengthy gaze towards Kaidan's unconscious figure, she rose and hit the panel which opened the med-bay doors and nearly ran into Liara.

"I've just alerted Huerta Hospital. I've transmitted the medical report, and they should be ready for him once we're docked."

"And when's that?" asked Shepard, her voice monotone.

"Joker's ETA puts us at a couple hours from now." Then noting Shepard's reddened eyes and fatigued constitution, the Asari placed a gentle arm on her friend's own. "I know that this will fall on deaf years, but for old time's sake – let me get it out of the way: Shepard, you need to rest. You can't go on operating like this. We've stabilized him as best we could."

Shepard glanced at her hand, noticed the ongoing nervous tremor and quickly thrust it behind her back. "Sleep was never my cure-all, Liara." She was surprised at how truthful the statement came to be.

"Had to give it a try," conceded Liara. "You need a break, however." Liara looked about the morose and darkened med-bay. "How about a change of scenery? Take a walk around the ship – it'd do you good. Don't worry, I'll sit up with him."

Shepard opened her mouth as if to argue, but then allowed for a reluctant smile to settle in. The relaxed shoulders and conciliatory grin was sufficient to let the Asari know that the small battle had been won.

* * *

"Outer siding will have to be replaced once we dock," muttered Cortez as he ran a hand along the port-side door of the Kodiak shuttle. His palm slid easily across the smooth surface until it touched deep dents – the metal dipping inwards as a result of their hostile encounter. Or rather, _Kaidan's _hostile encounter, acknowledged Cortez. "_Damn_."

"What is it?" voiced Vega who was seated on a bench across from the pilot. His knees were apart, an elbow resting atop each one – hands clasped before him. He gazed in Cortez's direction, brows furrowed and darkened.

"You do realize how much force it takes to dent even a portion of the hull, don't you? I mean, sure, it's just the outer layer but..." he rapped his knuckles against the shell, the metal responding with a deep clang, "...this is the kind of shellacking you could get from meteorite debris."

Vega threw his head back and gave him a disbelieving look.

"No man, I'm serious." insisted Cortez. "She can withstand a deep-sea dive, but that kind of force impacts a larger surface area. Her skeleton was built with that in mind. The design didn't count on sharper fragment contact on less surface area. Uneven distribution – the frame can't always take it. I've seen shuttles pounded to scrap metal from debris as small as my fist," he held the clenched hand up for effect, "You'd expect a scratch at the most. But with the speed and force...well...it doesn't take much."

"What are you saying?" questioned a weary Vega.

"The woman who got the Major? The one who Donovan's doing an autopsy on? She isn't your average Cerberus agent."

Vega snorted. "Well, she's got one thing in common with the rest we encountered back there."

"What's that?"

"She's dead."

Cortez reached for a towel and began to wipe his hands in silence. Tossing the towel aside, he straightened and folded his arms across his chest.

"Are we going to have to go down this road again, Vega?"

"What road?"

"The one where you get all moody, drop a couple dark innuendos about the last mission you were on and then clam up when I try to play the consoling bartender." Cortez gave the young lieutenant a knowing gaze. "Might work with the ladies, but it's getting on my damned nerves."

"You just don't get it."

"Get what? That just because I'm not in the fray, I don't feel the same trauma you do?" Cortez issued a bitter scoff and pointed a finger at his own chest. "Do you honestly believe that right now, I'm not second-guessing my lack of judgment when I dropped that shuttle down in front of you guys? I could have taken my time, waited until there was more distance between you and your Cerberus friend – maybe even immobilized her. But I didn't. There are so many things I could've done differently...but clearly, I didn't. And," he took a deep breath, "I'll admit, this is going to get to me for a while. But it's going to have to run its course. I'm going to have to write this one up as an occupational hazard and deal with it. As should you."

Vega scowled and attempted a nonchalant shrug, but the action came off as irritable. Cortez stood before the seated Vega for several moments. The younger man had suddenly been unable to meet his friend's eyes, and upon being met with an obstinate silence, Cortez stalked off to the opposite end of the hangar. Vega turned half-heartedly in Cortez's direction but he realized that a lukewarm apology would only worsen the situation, so he remained mum and resumed brooding.

"You owe me fifty bucks."

Vega started at the voice.

"Just for being able to sneak up on me like that – I'll double your greenbacks."

"Credits aren't green anymore, Lieutenant," smiled Shepard. "Unless you want to set up shop on this one city back on earth. Heard they're still living in the twenty-first century. Refuse to consolidate with the rest of society." She casually sat down next to him, and leaned back against the wall.

From the corner of his eye, he took her in slowly. Lighting in their section of the hangar was dim, but it provided sufficient illumination to appraise Shepard's appearance. He wasn't accustomed to this informal persona – his only exposure to the Commander being that of military recruitment vids, news reels, the one interview she'd given at the training corps and their cooperative rescue on Mars only a few hours ago. Shepard sans-combat armor and a customary rifle seemed a whole other being. Her sweater drooped across her frame – the sleeves and shoulders one size too large. Her dark hair lay slightly disheveled – an attribute never depicted in the vids – and nascent dark circles underlined her otherwise bright eyes.

"Remind me again," he began, "why exactly do I owe you money?"

"Back on Mars – you said the Collectors were responsible for the attack. I said Cerberus. You were wrong and...I was right. Now pay up."

Vega shook his head and laughed. "_Oh no_. I never said it wasn't Cerberus. I said that Cerberus was _working_ with the Collectors."

"But they're not."

"Says who?"

"Says me. And Liara agrees as well. Look, Cerberus wouldn't link arms with the Collectors, James. And even if they did, why on earth would the Collectors place their trust in them? Whichever way you want to look at it, Cerberus was responsible for the destruction of the Collector base. They're not likely to kiss and make-up – and that would imply that they were in bed together in the first place." Shepard let out a small laugh at this summoned imagery. She went on. "It's a bad deal – both ways – there'd be far too much suspicion to justify that kind of alliance. Like I said before, Cerberus is just a bunch of mistrustful xenophobes. They believe that they represent humanity and – "

" – would sacrifice humanity in the doing." finished Vega. "You saw it yourself. They took down members of their own species back there; they tried to kill your friend and they almost murdered the major. All in a day's work." He tilted his head back against the wall and glowered at the ceiling.

Shepard exhaled. "What did Cerberus do to your family?" she asked quietly.

Impulsively and with a large degree of incredulity, he snapped his head in her direction. He studied her as the silence between them thickened and then finally looked away. His voice was quiet. "What did he tell you?"

"Kaidan never told me anything, James. It isn't exactly hard to read."

"That easy, huh."

"It's just...well, there's something different about you when Cerberus comes up. I've seen it before with other soldiers. It's become personal. It's not easy to miss but it sure is difficult to witness."

As he exhaled, he seemed to wither before her. The head dipped silently, followed closely by slouching shoulders. His staunch profile shrank back into the shadows and an atrophying form took its place. "It's in my files. Why don't you go read them?" he muttered.

"James, I was never given any access to personnel files and with all that's been going on, I haven't had the time. Besides, I'd rather hear it from you. When you're ready. I don't want the chewing-out you gave Cortez."

"Huh. He did most of the chewing."

She gave him a sidelong glance and then made as if to rise. He reached out with his left and grasped her arm; the grip enervated and brief. "_Wait._"

He looked up at her. "Why'd you work for them? How could you do it?"

Shepard sat back down; muscles rigid. Looks like she'd have to give a little to get him to open up. She tried to relax. "I...at the beginning, when they told me everything and what had happened, I have to admit, I was grateful. Grateful to the point where I was willing to listen. He didn't give me any ultimatums, didn't make any threats. It was all very...professional. He seemed earnest. Humans on outskirt-colonies were being abducted – he insisted that it had something to do with the Reapers. He also maintained that Alliance resources were spread too thin and showed me several communiques that proved it. He told me that all he wanted from me was check out a colony that had recently been attacked and – "

" – Freedom's Progress?"

Shepard studied the lieutenant momentarily and looked impressed. "You've done your homework. Horizon seemed to have made the front page, but I didn't know that anyone really knew about Freedom's Progress."

Her praised elicited a modest shrug from the Lieutenant.

She continued. "He told me to investigate the colony. If I wasn't convinced of any Reaper involvement, we'd part ways."

"You really think he'd have kept his word if you chose to walk away?"

Shepard paused thoughtfully. "No. But somehow, he knew. He knew I'd stick around because I couldn't have stopped the Collectors any other way." She glanced over at him. His face seemed drawn; the hint of a scowl tapered his mouth downwards. She knew doubt when she saw it. "And I suppose you're wondering if our temporary alliance was justified..."

"You did the best you could with the information you had." The remark came out moderately stale, but Vega wasn't exactly a liar. She couldn't find his angle, couldn't single out the bait. Maybe there was none.

"You don't have a history with them, Commander," he went on. "Or at least, yours doesn't make quite a villain out of them that mine does. On a personal level anyway."

"What happened?"

"If you read my files, you'll see that my dad had a...habit. On the day I was supposed to enlist with the marines, he had me pick up a packet for him. That day – of all days – I didn't question him. Just went right out and did what I was told. But I was tailed on my way back – didn't find out till I was halfway home, right when the cops flipped on their sirens. But I knew my way around the back streets and lost them. When I came home, I opened the packet and it turned out to be red sand. I was risking everything..._everything_ for that selfish bastard, and I told him so. He threatened to tell the recruitment officers. He didn't, of course. That would've exposed him. So I left. Promised myself that I'd never go back, never see him again."

She offered a consoling expression. "You've got your own life to live, James, there's nothing to feel guilty about. But I have to ask – what does this have to do with Cerberus?"

"A couple months later, I got a friend in the military to do me a solid – had him check in on my dad. Turns out that my dad was buying red sand from a Cerberus peddler all along. Not high up like that doctor we ran into, but Cerberus just the same. And my dad got on his wrong side. Don't know exactly how, but for dad, that's not difficult to do. They set our house on fire. With him still inside."

"James, I..."

"Do you know what the last thing I said to him was?"

She was silent.

"_Espero que quema en el infierno_. I hope you burn in hell."

He hung his head low and began to quiver.

* * *

Liara sat next to the unconscious Kaidan and slipped her hand in his. She looked about the room, slightly self-conscious, and then began to speak.

"Kaidan...I'm not sure if you can hear me, but I am here nevertheless." She shook her head in self-depreciation; her words felt rudimentary, the phrase hackneyed. But it was all she could offer at this point in time, so despite the awkward start, she plodded on. "Shepard was never one for words, and come to think of it, perhaps I'm not either...but we'd like you to come back to us. Our..._your_ time isn't over yet, don't ask me how I know – I just do. You and I may have had our differences, and I just need to apologize. For not being a friend to you when you needed it most.

When we all went our separate ways, that's when I should have been there. I didn't realize it at the time – you probably felt her loss the hardest, didn't you? I left you high and dry. I should have let you in on what I was doing...I just didn't know how you would feel. I thought you'd have tried to stop me from giving her to Cerberus. I don't know. But I'm sorry now, and I'm here now. All that's left for you to do is to make your way slowly back to us. We need you."

The door that connected the first room to the second of Normandy's med bay opened with a pneumatic hiss, and Liara jumped at the sound. She looked up to see Donovan standing in the doorway, her face suffused with anxiety.

Liara rose instinctively. "What is it?"

"I've had to conduct a more thorough autopsy on your Cerberus doctor."

"Why?"

"Shepard emptied three clips into that woman – a woman who had no armor. Now tell me that doesn't raise any red flags for you."

Liara's brows furrowed, while Donovan let out a troubled breath. "It's just better if you come see for yourself."

* * *

"It's the most sophisticated model I've seen yet." With a gloved hand, Donovan carefully lifted the epidermal layer of skin upwards, exposing the bright pink flesh beneath. "Looks real, doesn't it?"

Liara swallowed and that was all she needed to proceed.

"Let's take a closer look then." With a small but noticeably sharp scalpel, she cut past dermal and subcutaneous tissue. Her instrument then met the resistance of rough muscle, but she persisted until it went no further.

"What's wrong?" asked Liara, lips parted with dread. "Did you hit bone?"

"Metal."

"_What?_"

"I hit metal." repeated Donovan slowly.

"_The Lieutenant is right, Doctor T'Soni_," EDI's voice emerged and echoed within the confines of the room. "_Preliminary scans show us that the deceased – or in this case, the **deactivated** – possesses an extensive metal frame. We caught it through the x-rays. Metal tends to absorb radiation to a greater extent than bone, and our results are exhibiting substantial radiation. Both skeletal and framework anatomy appear to constitute an alloy of some sort_. _We can't be certain of exact percentage composition without further evaluation, but I am quite certain that she isn't human_."

"She is a remarkable specimen. Bleeds when cut. Bruises when injured. Look," Donovan pointed at the flesh where one slug sliced through. The opening was typical of a bullet wound – a dark circular aperture was apparent, its periphery blue-black in colour. A trickled-stain of now-darkened blood ran in the direction where gravity was prevalent.

"How on earth did Shepard take her down then?" asked Liara.

"She's not invincible," explained Donovan.

"_Eventually, and with enough persistent force, the metal barrier can be permeated_." concurred EDI.

"She could have killed Kaidan."

"He can count himself lucky," acknowledged Donovan, "it could have been a lot worse."

"Are we certain she's de – er...inactive? Permanently?"

"_I'm not getting any electromagnetic readings. At least none that I'm aware of_."

Liara shook her head. "That's not good enough. How do you know the shutdown wasn't voluntary? It could have backup systems that charge back up again after a programmed duration of time."

"_We could remove her core and safeguard it from accessing our system through firewalls. I was able to do so with Legion – except no core removal was necessary. He was cooperative_."

"Do it." instructed Liara.

"_Lieutenant Donovan_," said EDI, "_I am going to need your help with this. Your specimen isn't going to dissect herself and I lack the necessary...limbs_."

Donovan stood frozen in place, uncertain and confused. Her glasses began to slip down the bridge of her nose.

"_That was a joke_." clarified EDI dryly. "_Considering the seriousness of the situation, I thought some brevity could alleviate things._"

"Humor and timing go hand in hand, EDI," Liara conceded a partial smile, "and the Lieutenant isn't as accustomed to your wit. Especially now."

"_My apologies_. _But I do need your help_."

Donovan nodded in the direction of EDI's voice and then turned to face Liara. "Someone's got to tell Shepard."

"I will." replied the Asari.

* * *

The narcotic pulsated through her, purging all emotion as it encompassed her totally. In her mind's eye, she watched with detached tranquility as anxiety rolled into fear, then anger, then sadness, and the entire sordid mess tumbled further and further from her. A sense of clarity replaced noisome chaos – it removed a cacophony of problems – even that goddamned humming had stopped as well. It wasn't the first time she had gladly waded into that sea, and she knew that it wouldn't be the last.

It took her several minutes to acknowledge the knocks at her door.

"_Shepard, please_," came the muffled voice.

She moved towards the door, hit the panel alongside it and met the gaze of a worried Liara.

"Wassamatter?" she asked. She cleared her throat. Words were slurring again.

The Asari took in Shepard's demeanor with a steady observation. "Were you sleeping?"

"Yes."

Liara looked at her disbelievingly but chose not to pursue the matter. "There's been a development – with the doctor you took down."

"What – did she rise back up again?" She leaned casually against the doorway with one elbow and laughed. It was too relaxed. Carefree. It was an infrequent side to Shepard, and so very out of place.

Liara's tone remained somber. "She's an android, Shepard. An extremely sophisticated one. Could be one of many that Cerberus has developed. You do know what this means, don't you?"

Shepard thought for the better part of a minute. "Looks like the robot army will have to get in line if they want a piece of me."

A flash of anger and confusion crossed her electric eyes. "_Shepard_. I don't know exactly what has come over you, but I need you focused. Now go back in there and do whatever you need to do to pull yourself together. Donovan wants us in the briefing room in half an hour."

* * *

In thirty-five minutes, Shepard stepped through the door frame and into the well-lit room that contained Liara, Donovan, and Joker. Liara glanced in her direction. For all intents and purposes, she now fit the old and familiar profile that the Asari knew and loved. Her shoulder-length hair had been washed and combed, tied back cleanly. Gone was the baggy sweatshirt – replaced by Alliance-issued casual garb. The shoulders were held back and neckline upright. She was poised and confident, the only remnants of their tense encounter evident in mildly bloodshot eyes.

Shepard took a seat in between Liara and the cocksure pilot. Surprised at his appearance, she leaned towards him. "Dragged you in here as well, huh?"

"You're telling me. Had to put my game on hold. And if you know anything about extranet RPGs, you'll know that your online buddies aren't gonna wait for shit. Was about to level up too."

Shepard settled into her seat with a short laugh. "Where's Vega?" she asked Liara.

"In the hangar. He wasn't really up for this meeting." she replied.

Donovan, who had taken the initiative of sitting at the apex of the polished table, spoke first. "I recently received a message from Councilor Anderson. He wanted to link up a comm buoy – tell you this in person, but there wasn't time. He's in the middle of negotiations right now."

"Negotiations?" queried Shepard. "Trying to hold the Alliance off?"

Donovan licked her lips nervously. "I'm afraid it's a bit more serious than that." She looked away. "They've revoked your Spectre status, Shepard. The Alliance appealed to the Council, informed them that you appropriated the Normandy without their acquiescence. I'm not entirely sure how – perhaps the Bahak incident was their trump card – but they managed to convince the Council that you are not of sound mind and are a very legitimate threat to the galactic community. Anderson vetoed the directive as best he could, but it was three against one."

Shepard looked at her and offered a wan smile. "We knew it would come to this. It was just a matter of when. I'm sure they've done the same to your career, Donovan."

"That's not what worries me. Anderson told me that they've sent another Spectre agent after you. Just like they did with – "

" – with Saren, I know," Shepard shut her eyes and massaged her brow.

"Didn't the Alliance install a tracking device once they repurposed the Normandy?" asked Liara. "Has it been removed?"

"EDI took care of that for us," assured Joker. "They never installed it in the first place – she just made them think they did."

"So we have time." breathed Liara.

"But once we dock at the Citadel, they're sure to search the ship," explained Donovan. "We're going to have to change route."

"Absolutely not." shot back Shepard. "Kaidan needs medical attention."

"I don't think you understand the seriousness of the situation, Shepard. Once the authorities are alerted, we'll lose all the ground we've covered. The Alliance will seize the blueprints that Doctor T'Soni acquired, and you'll be back where you started with some new charges to boot. Quite possibly they'll tack on what happened on Mars and spin it to frame you. We cannot afford to lose this round. Either we re-route or..."

"Or...?"

"No. It's too risky."

"Just tell us."

"We could falsify docking IDs. Swap ours with that of a ship that's docking at the same time. It would back up the system and give us an extremely narrow window of time though. But it might be enough to get Major Alenko checked in, and get us out under the radar. I'm no hacker, however."

"_Perhaps I can assist with that_," chimed in EDI.

"Perhaps you could." smiled Donovan. She exhaled and her eyes, for the first time since Shepard had known her, came alive. "It'd be close. Touch and go."

Shepard looked at her with a degree of grim amusement. "When did you become such a rebel?"

Donovan couldn't help but laugh. "You have an..._interesting_ effect on people, Shepard. I'm not sure what I make of it yet."

"You have _no_ idea." piped Joker. "This is just the beginning. Wait'll you have string of badasses on your tail. You wanna cut your losses and run – now's the time."

"Okay then. So we agree on that one?" ventured Liara, steering the conversation back on track. "What about the android in the med bay?"

"I've extracted the core data drive. It's currently inactive, but should it turn itself on, EDI's firewalls are in place." replied Donovan.

"Keep it deactivated. We can only field one ball at a time." suggested Shepard. "If Cerberus is anything, they're paranoid. We have a go at the core without a fallout plan and you can bet that they'll exploit any and every weakness available. If we have some down time, we'll take the next step."

"And the blueprints?" asked Donovan, turning her head in Liara's direction.

"I need to conduct a more thorough analysis, and the sooner, the better. Cerberus may already have made significantly more progress than us."

"What're your first impressions?" Donovan inquired.

Liara leaned forward and linked her omni-tool to a port situated on the table. A shimmering blue image materialized before them. The structure resembled that of a gargantuan door-knob; stick-like tapered protrusions emanated from its spherical head and several apertures permeated its round surface.

"This is purely a hypothesis of what the finished product would be," explained Liara. "But I would say that it's a fairly accurate one. As for how it would work...your guess is as good as mine."

"Looks like Omega." noted Joker. "The polished version, I mean. Not the chunky rock bits. That part's different."

"He's right," murmured Liara.

"But what does that have to do with anything?" said Donovan.

"Are we sure it's a weapon?" asked Joker.

"The designs seem to incorporate the generation of an immense mass effect field. Perhaps on the same scale as a relay. But this is clearly not a relay."

"You say the Protheans built it?" asked Shepard.

"Yes, and like I've mentioned before, there are other unidentifiable structural influences. Someone else's fingerprints, if you will. Ones I don't recognize."

"Could these other fingerprints have belonged to a race that existed at the same time as the Protheans?"

"Anything is possible, but I don't believe that's the case. A cross-check on the architecture of other species co-existing alongside the time of the Protheans isn't pulling up any matches. Not even a small percentile similarity. And my instinct tells me we're looking at something far older than the Protheans."

Shepard scowled. "So they all took a shot at building this thing. But none of them managed to pull the trigger."

"Maybe they didn't know where the trigger was or how it worked. Maybe they didn't have the technology to do so," offered Donovan.

"Or maybe they were all interrupted." said Joker.

The room grew silent with the dire implication of his words.

He leaned back into his seat and folded his arms across his chest before making a bold declaration. "Look, finding this is great. A blast from the past – good vibes and all that. But let's not get ahead of ourselves. We throw all our resources into making this thing – which, I gotta say, looks like a doorknob from _hell_ – and we've got nothing left to hit the Reapers with when they ride into town."

"It's clear that we can't play this card yet. We don't know anything about it." acknowledged Shepard.

"Agreed," said Liara. "I may have one or two contacts that might be able to shed some light on all of this. Once we have a better understanding of – "

"_Shepard_," EDI's controlled voice arose, interrupting the small council. "_We may have a problem_."

Joker shot up in his seat. "G_oddamned_ androids!" He stalked towards the exit. "Don't know how to stay dead – they're like bad sequels – keep coming and coming,"

"_She isn't active, Joker_. _We've got something potentially bigger_."

"Ten androids...?" he ventured, with rapidly diminishing hope.

The image before them cut out, only to be replaced by the recognizable display of a star system cluster. Orbiting stars and planets spun serenely in front of them, unremarkable and quite ordinary. Then the animated picture dissipated, and they found themselves staring at one another across the table.

Shepard's palms grew chill and began to sweat. _No, no, no. Too soon_.

"_Communication seems to have been lost from Sigurd's Cradle, Commander. Ships are reporting in that they cannot access the relay_."

"When was this?"

"_About fifteen minutes ago._"

"What about Sanctum? Watson?" questioned Donovan. "Can't they raise communication from any of the planets?"

"_Currently, no one has had any success_."

"EDI, pull up any live feeds that were broadcasting when communication went down. Doesn't matter how irrelevant." directed Shepard. She stood up, unable to remain seated, and began to fidget with her hands.

A screen at the forefront of the small chamber descended, and within a matter of a few seconds, several videos – each juxtaposed against the other – a latitude and longitude of animated feeds, began to play.

The room went silent, eyes darting and neurons firing.

"There!" cried Liara suddenly, pointing at one particular video. "Enlarge feed twenty-one."

The enhanced selected recording was choppy – the camera swaying east and west, north and south. The image of feet pounding on pavement would cut to masses of moving legs before the cameraman. His ragged breath was punctuated only by a cacophony of panic, and thirty seconds into the feed, the image swung around and upwards. Through a hazy sky, an all-too-familiar shape materialized – its multiple curved limbs descending into view. An amalgam of pixels and static then swept across the screen, and the video was gone.

Donovan raised a hand to her lips.

"Check the other systems. Check if they dropped off the grid as well." Shepard's voice was a monotone and barely audible.

"_All other system relays and communication are reporting in as normal_."

"What's the word on the extranet?" asked Liara.

"_News agencies are claiming that this is another Geth attack. The videos I pulled up are just now going viral. Both users and viewers are attributing damage to the Geth_."

Liara looked to Shepard. She leaned against the wall with her left shoulder, hunched forward.

"What should we do?" spoke Donovan finally, her voice hoarse.

Shepard looked her way; simultaneously weary and unflinching. "We get to the Citadel. Get Kaidan checked in and we get out. The Reapers are starting their attack from the Terminus – they'll work their way inwards and towards the Attican Traverse. They'll go for military installations first. We've got to get word to Arcturus Station. Get them mobilized."

"What about the Council? Shouldn't they be warned?"

"Yes, but not in person. I go there and they'll put me in a padded cell."

"The Alliance will do the same thing, Shepard," reminded Liara gently.

"I have one more card to play. Admiral Hackett. If we're lucky, they'll listen to him and just lock us up."

Donovan snorted. "_If we're lucky?_ What the devil happens if we're not?"

"Then I won't be the one doing the convincing. At the rate that they invaded Sigurd's Cradle – an entire cluster of systems, it won't be long until the Reapers will do that job for me. Donovan – you're going to have to contact the Council. Whatever you do – don't give them our location."

Donovan swallowed. Nervous. "Right."

"Liara, we need to know all there is to know about those blueprints. See if the damned thing can give us an edge." instructed Shepard.

"I'm on it," Liara replied.

"EDI – re-post those videos on the extranet. Implicate the Reapers – insert a Reaper tagline, remove the Geth from the equation. Issue standard emergency evacuation plans. Tell them what to look for, what to avoid – put in descriptions of husks and Collectors. Maybe some smartass out there will put two and two together and help us spread the word."

"_Very well, Shepard_."

Donovan stood up, both body and mind processing these new developments with dreadful anticipation, and walked slowly past Joker before he stopped her. He bent his head and caught her eyes with his. "Welcome aboard the real Normandy, Lieutenant – you've passed the initiation phase. This is when shit gets thick and we all go to hell in a hand-basket." He shook his head and inhaled deeply. "Yeah, these are the moments when I wish that Shepard was a nutter. Hell, I wish we were all nutters."

"Why's that?" she asked softly.

"Because you're only a nutter if you're wrong. And for the first time in my life, I want to be proven wrong. Think it's too much to ask?"


End file.
